


Wax and Wane

by Bearslayer



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Cryptography, Drifting, Ghost Drifting, HEAVY longing, Idiots in Love, Implied Virginity Loss, M/M, Newt and Hermann are Mako's gay uncles, Newton asks for help, Pacific Rim - Freeform, Partial Mind Control, Pining, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), Pseudoscience, Secret Messages, Seduction, Slow Burnish, Unsafe Sex, after the war, bed sharing, drug mention, implied PTSD, like oppressive amounts of it, no Uprising spoilers but it is a good point of reference, unwelcome erections, which is the only kind of science I really understand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-04-25 15:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearslayer/pseuds/Bearslayer
Summary: When Newton was gone, Hermann felt as if the world really had ended, and that he was left to rebuild on his own.[Takes place within the ten years between Pacific Rim and Pacific Rim: Uprising.A fic in which Hermann is an emotional mess and Newton struggles to remain himselfAlternate subtext: How Hermann Got His Man Back]





	1. Longing

**Author's Note:**

> I've arrived five years late to the fandom. I needed to write for it after my first time seeing Pacific Rim (and immediately seeing Uprising after). I likely won't have a rigid uploading schedule for this fic, but I will try to update at least once a week until it's done, barring life difficulties.

In his dreams, Hermann still saw it.

The sickly shades of blue and purple twisting and ebbing in the air, swirling in erratic patterns around the nightmare constructs that rose from far in the horizon. The twisted creatures that watched with too many eyes, their very silhouettes radiating malevolence. The screeching, squelching, grinding of the monstrous clones that moved towards the tear in space was deafening. Primal terror welled up inside him as he watched, his mind screaming for him to run, to run, to _run_ , but his legs would not work.

In his dreams, Hermann was paralyzed.

And when he woke, he did so drenched in sweat, not comforted by the darkness of his Shatterdome quarters. Though the dreams were infrequent, they haunted him for days after. He would see them when he closed his eyes and in the corners of his vision, leaving him anxious and tense. Now that he worked mostly alone, it was easy to fall into despair, horrible questions in his mind.

Had he done irreparable damage to himself by drifting with Newton and the baby Otachi? His brain was in perfect condition according to the numerous scans and EEGs he had requested be done. Psychological damage, however, was hard to quantify. Therapy had been suggested by his regular practitioner, and for that, Hermann had admonished them. He knew enough about therapy and psychopathology to know the signs of post-traumatic stress disorder, and though he felt that he displayed some, he was loath to humor the idea. He had never seen combat, nor had he witnessed some anything akin to the horrors that the Rangers had. He had lost no one to the Kaiju like the rest, and felt that it would diminish their struggle if he claimed to have it as well.

The only one who could truly understand was Newton, and he was gone.

A month after the sealing of the breach, his long time partner left to work for Shao Industries. They had offered them both a lucrative contract, but Hermann had declined, preferring to stay with the PPDC. Newton, however, had been practically over the moon at the very idea. The money was too good to turn down, particularly with the added sign-on bonus of a lovely apartment. Hermann had been tempted, but the decision to stay was easy. He valued the history he had built there, and the people he had seen through the apocalypse.

“Don't worry about it, man. I get it. We'll keep in touch, right? You can't get rid of me that easy.” Newton had said the day he left.

“Of course. I fully expect a video tour of your new apartment, once you've set it up with all of your... things.” Hermann gestured to the junk still not packed on Newt's desk; action figures, sketches, other papers... probably some Kaiju viscera that had been overtaken by the dust that likely covered the desk.

“Aww, you called them things and not rubbish! Drifting really made you sentimental, huh?” Newt had teased.

“I suppose it has.” Hermann admitted.

What he couldn't admit was just _how_ sentimental it had made him. How deeply the connection ran for Hermann, who had never quite understood other humans but craved closeness all the same. Even after a future free of Kaiju had been assured, he still couldn't manage the words aloud. Something inside him choked them in his throat. Even as much he wanted more than anything to beg the man who had simultaneously been the bane and joy of his existence to stay, he ended up sending him off with a brief hug and a promise that he would call him. Of the two, it was Newton who allowed the hug to linger. It was Newton who held his shoulders and stared into his eyes right before they parted ways.

“Goodbye, Hermann.” He said. For once, his voice was soft, lacking its usual edge. In his eyes, Hermann could swear he saw the smallest bit of pain. Thought he may have just been projecting his own misguided feelings.

And when Newton was gone, Hermann felt as if the world really **had** ended, and that he was left to rebuild on his own.

//

In the year that followed, the space between Hermann and Newt grew. Hermann had a difficult time maintaining any semblance of poise, preferring to stay tucked away in the laboratory by himself. He found it easier to manage his feelings when he had no one around to see them happening. Between the nightmares and the self-imposed isolation, it was difficult to get anything productive done. Without Newton there as his sounding board and personal foil, his work had lost its shine. He was no longer drawn to the wild ways of thinking that had brought him success with the other man irritating him to no end.

At first, the video calls had been somewhat frequent; he had seen the new apartment, heard some details about the new job, and had even taken a 'walk' with him one day along the coastline outside of Tokyo. He had listened fondly while Newton gushed about the fauna in Japan, pointing out every little critter he came across. But the calls became less and less frequent as the months dragged on. He would get no answer when he tried to call, and, too awkward to leave messages, would simply hang up. It was difficult not to settle in to the bitterness that had wrapped its icy fingers around his heart. He missed Newton more than he had ever thought he could, but how could he compete?

How could he measure up to a shiny new job with shiny new prospects when he knew that Newton was attracted to chaos? How could he compare when he knew full well that Shao Industries had nearly limitless resources at hand, while the Shatterdome was practically obsolete? Without the threat of imminent doom, their efforts had been concentrated re-purposing the Jaegers to aid in relief efforts in disaster areas. They relied on government subsidies and the gratitude of the world's leaders. Shao Industries represented everything new and exciting in technology. It was probably a no-contest for Newt, whose attention was hard to get and even harder to keep.

After a full month without contact, Hermann began to write letters, ones that he dare not send. There were ones filled with despair-laced anger and ones dripping with sentimentality. There were ones that read like poetry and others that could have been pulled out of a manual on how to teach robots human emotions. It helped a little, taking some of the sting out of his solitude. He figured that if he were able to release some of those feelings into the world, no matter how ridiculous they might be, he might be able to let the other man go. The sensation of ghost drifting was well documented, but for it to still be the case after a year apart was unheard of. The distraction of the letters was necessary.

It worked, sometimes. There were days he didn't think of him at all. There were days where he didn't glance longingly at his phone, wishing that Newton would remember him, or at the very least send him a damned text message. There were days he thought better of calling, knowing that if he was ignored again it might send him into another self-isolating spiral. He kept busy, knowing how important it was to keep the mind sharp. He wrote papers on his interests, and worked twelve hours a day to keep his inner turmoil at bay. He could almost forget the way it felt to drift with Newton, to see his thoughts, to **feel** him.

All of his progress was dashed when received a text at four in the morning, nearly a year to the date of Newt's departure.

“ _herms!! headed 2 HK for a biz conference, gonna stay a couple extra days. They give away my dome digs yet?”_

Hermann's throat felt tight. He hadn't been able to sleep much that night, jarred awake by another vision of the Anteverse. His finger hovered over the call icon, fingers trembling, body still clammy all around from the terror. He moved it away. Text would be better; his words could never seem to escape his mouth properly where Newt was involved.

All he managed to type was; _“When? And yes.”_

He was too tired to mentally berate himself for his curtness.

“ _did I wake u up? i'll b there in 2 days. Can i crash w/u? i can get a hotel if no”_

His eyes went wide. A hundred responses flashed through his mind, running the gauntlet mostly between desperation and anger.

// _'How dare you, after not speaking to me or answering my calls for over a month!'_

_'I don't think that would be a good idea considering the emotional strife I've put myself through lately.'_

_'Do you think you can just waltz back into my life, come and go when you please?'_

_'I've missed you in the way that one misses a lover and I can't wrap my head around the idea of being in close proximity with you any more than an atom can comprehend the being it is a part of.'_

_'You can't have woken me up since trying to sleep with these wretched nightmares is nearly impossible.'_

_'I think I've become obsessed with you and it frightens me too much to allow you near me.”_

_'Do you dream of them too? Do they whisper to you when you sleep?'_

_'You can come only if you stay with me this time, and promise never to leave me again.'_ //

With a quick shake of his head, Hermann dashed the thoughts from his mind. He was being unreasonable. He wasn't in a relationship with Newton, and never had been. He was in no way entitled to Newton's attentions, and vice versa. He was simply an old friend who wanted to catch up while he was in town, no matter how deep their history ran. So he collected himself, took a deep breath, and sent the message.

“ _Sure. I'll make space for you.”_

He wished that he could be as eloquent as his thoughts often were. He wished he could go into depth about how there would always be a space for Newt in his life, no matter how far apart they were. Maybe he would find that strength when he saw him again, and the dread pooling in his gut would dissipate. Perhaps being in his presence again would strengthen his resolve and help him stop feeling like such an obsessive coward.

“ _excellent, b there soon dude!! its been too long”_

Hermann drew in a deep sigh. How could he even respond to that? The intricacies of text messaging were always lost on him, despite his penchant for the written word. Newt's atrocious spelling and syntax certainly didn't spur him to keep the conversation going, but there was a little itching of worry in his mind that made him fear not responding. If he didn't respond, would Newt take it the wrong way? Would he assume Hermann didn't want him there?

Was he just overthinking things because the nightmares had left his mind a jumbled mess?

Taking a slow, deep breath, he tapped in his response.

“ _It has. I look forward to seeing you soon.”_

Detached. Curt. Emotionless. He couldn't muster the courage to show the excitement beginning to well inside him. Emotions were irrational, a foolish biological response to outside stimuli. Not without purpose, from an evolutionary standpoint, but cumbersome and unwanted to Hermann. He hated that he desired human connection, human touch, wished that he could rise above it, but as long as he and Newton existed in the same world, that would never happen. With how difficult it had been to keep himself together those last months, he worried that once he saw the other man he would fall apart.

He only hoped that Newton would care enough to pick up the pieces.

 


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt arrives at the Shatterdome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a... transitional chapter because I couldn't resist focusing on them bickering.  
> Enjoy. If you're comfortable with doing so, I love to read comments!

The time between the messages and Newt's arrival seemed to pass at a snails pace, characterized by the agonizing task of making things presentable for him. Hermann's quarters were always immaculate, but he found himself going over everything with a fine-toothed comb to make sure nothing undesirable surfaced during his stay. All the unsent letters he had written throughout the year apart were gathered up and shoved into an unassuming box that once held cotton buds. He had considered burning the letters to avoid the possibility that they were discovered, but settled for the less dangerous method of jamming them into the back of the closet.

Then, he cleared off the couch. It was embarrassingly untidy; Hermann often laid his jackets over the back of it, and rarely actually used it for its intended purpose. It was a bit too stiff, and tended to make his hip ache terribly unless he found the perfect position. He assumed that either he or Newton would sleep there for the duration of his stay. While Hermann would do so if necessary, but hoped Newton would show him the courtesy of taking it. Though their relationship was characterized by sometimes vicious arguments, scathing remarks, and public denouncement of the others accomplishments, Newt had always been incredibly thoughtful when it came to Hermann's disability.

He recalled with fondness the many times where his cane had dropped during an angry gesture and clattered out of reach on the laboratory floor during a heated disagreement, and the way that Newt would always bend down to scoop it up, often while ranting about the perceived flaws in Hermann's theories. When it went to Newton's side of the lab, he would sanitize it as well as he could before returning it to Hermann's hands without a word about it. He would never outpace Hermann when they walked, standing by his side no matter how slow his leg had made him. At one point, they had been bickering about something and not even the cane was helping Hermann to stay upright... Newton had noticed the buckle in his hips and knees and immediately pulled a chair over for him to sit. All while unleashing a pummeling tirade about the practicalities of applied biology and how mathematics never translated as well into real life.

God, did he miss it. The silence in the laboratory had become nearly unbearable those last few weeks. It had been so bad that he had even considered vacationing, something he hadn't had a desire to do in the almost eleven years of working for the PPDC. He had no idea where he would even go. Somewhere warm, and colorful, and loud, most likely. Somewhere that reminded him of Newton, in a strange way. He had dashed the idea as soon as it came, however, in favor of a focus on working out the problem of weight versus speed in the newest batch of Jaegers.

When the day came, Hermann found himself flushed with anxiety, pacing back and forth. The clicking of his dress shoes and the butt of his cane struck a nervous rhythm, one hand lodged in his pocket, fingers clutching his phone. Newt hadn't sent him a message since that morning two days past, and part of him wondered if the conversation had just been some fever dream brought on by his wretched nightmares. It had taken him checking his messages on five different occasions to convince that nerve-wracked part of his mind that Newt was really coming; or at least, that they had really spoken about it.

He felt ridiculous, agonizing over Newt's impending arrival. He had known him for well over a decade, and spent the majority of that decade working in close quarters with him. Of course some of his concerns might be well founded; distance could have made complete strangers out of them. He knew he hadn't changed (except to become more sullen), but he couldn't say the same about Newt. He had left Hermann behind, after all, in favor of money and status... though the idea that Newt had left **him** specifically might just be a product of the bitterness that still lingered.

In his hand, his phone vibrated. With a startled jerk, he yanked it out, checking the message.

“ _u gonna keep stomping around or r u gonna come hug me”_

His heart caught in his throat as he turned to look at the entrance of the lab. There, leaning in the doorway, Newt brought a hand up and waved his fingers, a smirk on his lips. He was sharply dressed in a clean, perfectly tailored royal blue suit, likely straight out of the conference that had brought him back to Hong Kong. His hair was not the mess that Hermann remembered with some grudging fondness, but tamed into a gentle quiff. The frames of his glasses were a deep purple, a color that made his green eyes look all the more vivid beneath the lenses.

“ _Newton_.” Hermann breathed, a grin cracking across his lips. He had to struggle to avoid launching into a full run at him, choosing instead to move at the moderate speed he had been pacing at.

Newt met him halfway, throwing his arms around Hermann's shoulders, engulfing him in his embrace. Every bit of the bitterness and anger that had been stewing in Hermann for the past year dissolved under his touch, replaced by a sense of relief. The sharp edges of his tempestuous emotion had been ground down to soft curves, the only intensity in him being the way his heart pounded at Newt's touch. He rested his head against his shoulder, nose against his neck, breathing him in, one arm tentatively slinking around his waist to hold him close.

This time, Hermann was the one who lingered.

This time, Hermann was the one who held Newt's shoulder once they broke apart, staring into his eyes with a fondness not often expressed.

“Didja miss me?” Newt grinned, brows raising beneath his glasses.

“Far more than I care to admit, Newton.” Hermann said softly.

“Man, I'm gone for a year and you're all soft now? If I didn't know any better, I'd think you like me a little!” Newt teased, clearly already trying to ruffle his feathers. Hermann pulled his hands from his shoulders and straightened himself out, clearing his throat.

“Don't be ridiculous. There are just many new faces around the Shatterdome, it's good to see someone familiar.” He lied. He hadn't bothered introducing himself to most of the new people, and when they needed his expertise he simply went to LOCCENT to provide it.

“There's my stuffy, cranky grandpa.” Newt said.

“You've been here two minutes and already you're insulting me?” Hermann balked, though it was hard to contain his excitement. It was so familiar, so comforting to be trading blows with him. He was half tempted to show him his current research, if only to start a row. But there would be time for that later.

“Hey, come on. That's not an insult at all! Grandpas are the best! I see you're still wearing those horrible sweatervests that only look right on babies and ancient dudes...” Newt walked after him as he stormed away.

“They aren't horrible, they're comfortable and keep me warm! I dress for comfort and ease of mobility, _Newton._ You, however, seem to have embraced the aesthetic of an American who went to Japan to star in commercials for novelty drinks.” Hermann snapped.

“You look like if my 90 year old Advanced Cell Biology professor had a baby with the crazy old bag lady who used to sing on the corner back in Cambridge!” Newton shouted.

“What does that even mean, you absolute buffoon? This year apart has clearly dulled your brain. Do those absurd glasses help contain your ego, or is the science just not there yet?” Hermann turned to face him.

“Oh, **my** brain is the dull one? I read your last published paper about the Breach – did you mean to phrase it so that laymen could read it with no problem or did you just forget how to string together a sentence?” Newt shot back, moving closer to him, voice raised as he looked up at Hermann. His eyes positively sparkled with mischievous glee. Hermann's breath hitched just the slightest bit; Newt had read his work?

“If it seemed dumbed down, it's because I assumed you would be reading so I felt it necessary to simplify some of the concepts. I know how important it is for you to feel like you can keep up!” Hermann said.

To his surprise, Newt did not shoot back at him immediately. He didn't return with some cutting remark about his clothing, or his hair, or the nature of his work. Instead, a smile broke through his glare. It was big and radiant, not full of the scathing dark humor that it often had been in the past... no, the smile was one of a sentimental nature, full of fondness. It wrinkled the corners of his eyes in a way that Hermann might even dare to think was charming.

“... Is it weird that I really, really missed this? This... the back and forth. No one gives it to me like you do. No one can keep up – the few people that speak any English or German, at least. I'm learning Mandarin pretty quick but most things just don't translate well.” Newt said, voice lowering back to a reasonable level.

“I... suppose there is something to be said for the releasing of one's frustrations in a manner that doesn't really hurt either party.” Hermann gave a firm nod, a smile gracing his lips as well.

“There is.” Newt agreed. He then tilted his head to the side, brows furrowing. “It smells kinda weird in here. Not like I remember...”

“... It smells clean, Newton. Though I suppose that out of everyone in the world, you would be the one to associate the scent of rotting Kaiju viscera with familiarity.” Hermann snorted a little.

“Olfactory memory is a hell of a thing, man!” Newt snickered. Despite his fancy clothing, Newton was still Newton, and for that Hermann was grateful.

“... Did you mean what you said, before? About the publication seeming... elementary?” The only opinion he truly trusted in the matter was Newt's, after all.

“What? No man, I was just being an asshole. Actually, there was a section in there that went **straight** over my head that I'd like to talk about...” Newt began, looking up at him. Hermann didn't know if he was being baited into another argument, if Newt genuinely needed an explanation, or if he was simply being charming, but the thought of being able to actually break down one of his theories to the other man brought him a sense of pure elation. His back straightened and he gave a nod.

“Of course. I'd be more than happy to discuss it. I'll pull up my hard copy...”

“Nah, no need, I have the section here on my phone. I was waiting to see you in person to ask about it.” Newt grinned, pulling the phone out and tapping through a number of screens. “Now, the section in question is the one exploring the theory that the Breach is a modification on the classic Schwarzschild wormhole, one that solves the problem of the whole 'collapses into a black hole' thing...”

 


	3. Settling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann and Newt settle in for the night.

Several hours later, after a lengthy discussion about the implications of Hermann's theory on the entire field of physics and a brief dinner, the two made their way back to Hermann's quarters. He found himself strangely anxious to have Newton there; after all the fretting and self-deprecation he had done, just having him once again at his side felt like a strange dream. He was happy that it lacked the muted, haunting quality that his actual dreams had, but there was something different about the other man now. It wasn't something readily apparent, however. Something beneath the surface had itched Hermann's curiosity.

Was it the aftereffects of the drift? When they had last seen one another in person, it was almost as if they were magnetized. Hermann felt the need to be close to him physically, something he avoided with every other human that lived. Newt had taken to touching him far more often than either of them were accustomed to... but it had seemed like the effects had worn off. As he recalled, Newt seemed to be intentionally distancing himself, though that may have been because of the offer by Shao Industries looming over both of their heads. Hermann couldn't imagine that Newt felt anything akin to what he himself did.

He could only account for his own overblown emotions. The concept of romantic love was difficult for Hermann, who had never bothered with the idea. Never finding it prudent to give in to such base desires, he had talked himself down from every inkling of a crush, every stirring of attraction. He simply didn't have time for it in university, and had even less when the world was ending. Of course, he had spent the better part of his adult life with Newton, either as partners or corresponding through the mail. He remembered how eager he was to receive the letters, how enthralled he was with Newt's mind, how charmed he was by the idea of sending things through the mail.

Had he loved him then? When they were young and excited about their fields, waxing poetic about the workings of life and the universe? Was that love, if it was that, really so easy to push aside when they met for the first time and didn't get along? Or had it simply burrowed inside, buried when the need to save the world became far more important than their feelings? Had the drift pulled something back to the surface that Hermann might be happier having buried?

He could feel that something had changed in Newt. He was more quiet now, not so quick to start a fight or to dismiss him entirely. He had been entirely cordial when speaking to Hermann about his theories in a way that harkened back to their earliest days, though there was far more experience in both of them now. He was pleasant to be around in a way that worried some part of Hermann, the part that had learned to always be ready to trade words with the small, often belligerent man.

“So, you gonna give me the grand tour or just stare introspectively at the wall all night?” Newt's voice jarred him from his thoughts. Hermann's cheeks felt hot, and he shook his head.

“A tour? The quarters are uniform in design, Newton. Surely you remember your own, even now that you live in the lap of luxury?” Hermann smirked a little.

“Lap of luxury? Man, I'm too busy all the time to even enjoy it. Come on, just humor me. You know you wanna humor me. I can see it in your eyes. Please?” Newt actually jutted his lower lip out a little in a pout. Hermann's cheeks burned a little hotter.

“Get that look off your face and I will.” He huffed, looking away. When had such simple mannerisms started to cause such... uncouth reactions in him?

“Okay okay! Come on. Casa de Hermann, let's see it. Your quarters are definitely not regulation, and definitely bigger than mine were.” Newt grinned.

“I hope you're better with Mandarin than you are with Spanish.” Hermann muttered.

“Uhhh... Méiyǒu?” Newt attempted with a grin. Though his annunciation was good, Hermann, with his very cursory knowledge of the language, could tell that he was incredibly off tonally.

“... Well, anyways – These are my quarters. You were correct – they're no longer regulation size. I requested a few modifications, and since we're now being funded fully by several governments, the powers that be approved them.” Hermann began.

“I mean... you did kinda save the world. I would hope they'd do **something** for the trouble. And, you know, all the possible neurological distress.” Newt quipped.

“Mm, yes. Well, they granted me a few things; a larger bed, for one. It's far softer than the old one, less, ah... brig-quality. It's amazing what a decent bed does for the body.” Hermann said, patting his bed. He had convinced the brass that he would be more productive in a bed that didn't leave limbs hanging off the sides. He had gone from a single to a standard double.

“Oh, definitely. The human body is complicated and delicate. It's fucking stupid. I love it.” Newt grinned, giving the bed an exploratory press with his hand.

“I also requested a small couch and table for when I bring paperwork back here, though I admit I don't often use it for its intended purpose. In retrospect, I should have requested a better desk. But I shan't push my luck.” Hermann nodded a little, moving towards a door off to the side. “And in here...”

“Wait, you have two rooms now?” Newt said, eyes wide.

“Well, I have a room and... a bathroom of my own.” Hermann said with a small amount of pride.

“What? Really!? They let you have your own bathroom? Oh my god, I would have literally killed for my own bathroom when I was still here! Let's see it, come on! Open the door, don't make me wait!” Newt, as excitable as ever, bounced on his heels as he spoke.

Hermann opened the door. The bathroom was likely tiny by the standards of civilians, but was taken up almost entirely by the bathtub. It was installed into the corner, six feet in usable length and a few feet deep. It was a soaking tub, less for bathing and more for relaxation and muscle soreness. He had cited the need for it medically, and it had been approved without issue. He assumed a cursory glance into his medical records justified his need.

“You have a tub.” Newt's voice was small, reverent.

“I have a tub. I'm not sure why you sound so impressed... I've seen your apartment!” Hermann protested.

“Yeah, that's way different though, dude! You _earned_ this. You worked your ass off and when you requested it, despite no one else in this whole stupid dome having one, they gave it to you no problem. They were like 'oh who dares request such luxuries when we're running bare bones – oh, Hermann Gottlieb? Approved!' That's cool as hell.” When he mimicked the 'voice' of the higher ups, he put on a pompous accent (one he had used in the past to mock Hermann with, coincidentally).

“Well, we're hardly running bare bones now... Our budget is far more significant these days, you know. They're even forcing me to humor interns now and then.” Hermann allowed the smallest twitch of the corner of his lip. Newton's energy was intoxicating, and he couldn't help feel a little proud at the praise.

“Oh, gross man, that must be terrible.” Newton pulled a face. In the past, at the beginning of the war, the PPCD learned that Hermann was the only living human that could handle Newton in work mode. When it came to interns, he saw them more as potential research fodder than anything. He had scared away so many interns that they had been forced to discontinue the program they had in partnership with MIT.

“Well, sometimes it's good to have company. There's something to be said about molding young minds...” Hermann hummed, ever humble.

“Molding young minds... listen to yourself! You're talking like you're 500 years old.” Newton laughed as he walked out of the bathroom, setting his bag down by the bed.

“War makes old men of us all.” Hermann said. Though he was still fairly young, there were days he felt as ancient as the tides.

“Only if you let it. I'm gonna get ready for bed; I'm wiped.” Newton said, and without ceremony began to disrobe, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with the sort of ease only afforded to a person who truly hated clothing.

Hermann's cheeks flushed pink again, and he averted his eyes quickly. If Newt noticed, he kept quiet about it. He remained quiet as Hermann snatched up the night clothing he laid out for himself that morning and made his way back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. How could Newton possibly be so comfortable with him after all this time? To just strip down like that without a thought, revealing pale skin beautifully colored with the visages of Kaiju long dead. Just the glimpse of the ink set Hermann's heart racing, a memory flashing through his mind that was not his own. The image of a young, fresh-faced Newton Geizsler sitting in a boosted chair crossed into his mind's eye, and he felt a rush of elation. Hermann could almost feel the rapid firing of the needles into his **own** skin, a phantom sensation that felt... pleasant? Did Newton derive pleasure from being tattooed?

Was his mind misinterpreting things? The drift had been so brief, so long ago; how could he still feel it so acutely? He laid a hand over his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his ribs. The appearance of the tattoos had stirred something deep in his belly, some primitive part of his brain equating the sight of them with, passion, love, _home_. He cursed under his breath, moving to the sink to splash his face with water, hoping to cool his heated nerves. He had to practically dunk his head into the bowl of the sink to finally break the spell the sight had over him.

Changing into his pajamas was another matter entirely. It was always a process that involved a fair bit of maneuvering to avoid irritating his hip and leg, but now he struggled with the additional trouble of his skin feeling far too sensitive. The fabric of his underwear brushing over his thighs caused his hair follicles to prickle up. God; was he so affection starved that the sight of the tattoos on Newt's arms and shoulders could ruin him so completely? He felt pathetic, and thankful that he had turned away before Newt's chest could come into view. He could only imagine-- no, he _shouldn't_ imagine it, thank you very much, as he was having a difficult enough time trying to will his cock to stop reacting to his racing thoughts.

The briefs he wore were snug enough, and the pajama pants he wore lose enough, he was happy to find, to hide any hint that he was anything less than level. Cold water was applied in copious splashes to his face and shoulders, and then more down his arms, helped to dull the sensations enough for him to finally pull his shirt on. Taking a deep breath, he dried his face with a bath towel and hung it on the hook beside the sink. It took a fair amount of resolve to convince himself he could go back into the main room, hoping desperately that Newton was clothed.

When he opened the door back up, he was greeted by the sight of Newt laying on his side, propped up on an elbow as he wrote in a notepad with his free hand. He was gratefully clothed, though the clothing was an undershirt and long, silky looking trousers. He had removed his glasses, and when he looked up to Hermann he gave a smile that nearly undid his efforts to calm himself in the bathroom.

“Was starting to worry about ya, big guy. You were in there a while.” Newt said, a smirk on his lips. Hermann huffed, shaking his head.

“It takes me time to put my pajamas on.” He muttered. A clear half-truth, but Newt didn't question it.

It was obvious that Newt intended to take the bed, which was... unfortunate. He had laid out pillows on the couch, though, and perhaps if he positioned them correctly he wouldn't wake up with his body aching terribly. But as he began to shift things around, he felt Newt's eyes on him, boring into his skull. Feeling his cheeks begin to heat up again, he looked up, brows furrowed.

“Why are you staring at me?” Hermann said.

“Nothing. Just trying to figure out if you're gonna bring those pillows over here so you have one to use since I claimed this one.” Newt said as he patted the pillow he leaned against.

“... What?” Hermann's brows furrowed.

“Dude, this bed is plenty big, we can both fit. That couch is dinky, you can't sleep there. And I just don't want to. Come on.” He patted the spot behind him, and Hermann's throat must have closed off for a moment, because the sound he made was horrid. A sort of sputtering, choked noise escaped him, Newt's suggestion catching him off guard.

“Woah, woah, settle down buddy! Use your words.” Newt sat up, brows raised.

“I apologize. I just assumed that you would... prefer having it to yourself.” Hermann mumbled.

“Well, you assumed wrong. Now get over here. Don't make it weird.” Newt chuckled, patting the spot again.

If only Hermann's mind had an off switch. The implications of sharing a bed with Newton made it race uncomfortably. He could only imagine what areas of his brain were lighting up at the thought of such intimacy. They had been asleep around one another before, of course; high stress environments and long days tended to be the downfall of both of them more than once. Hermann would fall asleep in a stiff-backed chair after a 16 hour day, for instance, or Newton would go days without sleep and exhaustion would eventually cause his head to slump on a kaiju-gut covered desk. More than once Hermann had been forced to grab him by the hair and clean off his head to avoid the possibility of a nasty Kaiju-Blue wound.

Never had they slept side by side, though. And while his bed was a decent size, he was positive that their shoulders, at least, would touch if they laid side-by-side. He blinked, finding himself quietly staring at the side of the bed that Newton had offered out. If he stayed quiet any longer, he risked Newt teasing him relentlessly. He was already flustered; he didn't need to get all riled up this close to sleep time.

“Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt. Just stay on your side and we'll be fine, hm?” Hermann mumbled, lowering himself to the bed.

“I promise I won't grope you in my sleep.” Newton said, placing a hand over his heart. The sass in his voice was unbelievable, and Hermann had to resist the urge to ditch the bed.

“I didn't know you had such control over your unconscious body.” He muttered instead, exasperated.

“I dunno, I've been doing yoga lately. Really working on opening that third eye, so maybe I do!” Newt said, grinning as he laid down. Hermann knew he was saying it to irritate him, considering his opinions on Eastern medicines. He chose just to sigh, clicking the light next to him off and laying his head down.

“Well, regardless, I should warn you. There are times that I have... difficult dreams. I don't know if I move much in my sleep, but when I have those dreams I tend to wake up in a bit of a.. state.” Hermann admitted, voice soft.

“.. Yeah? Don't worry about it, man. I can sleep through it.” Newt promised, voice meeting his tone.

“Hopefully it won't happen tonight.” Hermann said.

“Yeah. Hopefully. Night, dude.” Newt said, turning off the light on his side of the bed.

“Sleep well, Newton.” Hermann said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bed sharing? Bed sharing.


	4. Shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newton and Hermann spend another day together.

Hermann, whose body ran perpetually a bit too cold, found that sleeping with another body providing heat was rather nice. Newton, who was apparently possessing of an internal furnace, slept both sound and warm, unmoving except for the occasional jerking of the limbs during the dream cycle. Hermann, however, had moved a great deal, his body naturally gravitating towards the warmth that Newton provided. When he woke, he found (to his horror), that his arm was thrown over Newt's side and his face had buried itself between his shoulder-blades. Newt's arm laid over his own, and when Hermann hazarded a look over his back, he saw that his hand was jammed into his pajama bottoms. His eyes went wide, and he laid his head back down, trying not to make assumptions. Sometimes men just held their privates while sleeping. It didn't mean anything.

More difficult to ignore was the way his own body had molded itself to Newton's back, slotting itself against him in a rather intimate way. He was spooning him, as they say, and Newt's bottom was pressed into his crotch rather firmly. He was almost afraid to move for fear of the humiliation that would come should Newt wake and find his old partner jammed up against him with a half-hard cock that he absolutely couldn't blame on anything but the feeling. It wasn't unpleasant to wake up in such a way, of course, and for a moment Hermann allowed himself to just lay there, basking in the closeness. Being able to hold Newton, to breathe in his scent, to feel his skin on his own... the comfort he found in it was a revelation. For a moment, he allowed himself to pretend that they were actually lovers.

It was a deep feeling of guilt that finally pulled him from Newton's side. Here he was fantasizing in his mind about the only person who had ever understood him fully, projecting his delusions on to the sleeping man who, as far as he knew, did not reciprocate. He knew that Newton wasn't straight, not by a long shot, but that didn't make it okay to cuddle up to him while he was trying to rest. It felt like molestation, and the feeling made his stomach ache as he sat up in the bed. The arousal he woke with dissolved on its own. The moment had passed.

It only took a moment before Newton stirred from his own slumber, giving a languid, cat-like stretch. He settled to his back, hooded green eyes focusing on Hermann with a sort of barely awake curiosity.

“Mm, morning handsome.” Newt muttered, yawning and stretching again, removing his hand from his pants. Hermann's head jerked to the side to avoid looking at him. Handsome? Early morning Newton was a beast he had yet to really encounter, he supposed. There was a difference between first waking and already being at work, and that difference was that he was apparently a little flirtatious upon waking. Even a logical explanation didn't stop his cheeks from reddening, though.

“Handsome?” Hermann grumbled. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“What? I can't give a guy a compliment?” Newt snickered just a little, folding his hands behind his head. “I slept well... You never told me you were a cuddler.”

“I nev --” Hermann looked at him, jaw tight. “Well, it wasn't intentional. I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“What? If it had made me uncomfortable I wouldn't have stayed where I was. I liked it. Relax. It's too early in the morning to be high strung, man.” Newt assured him, grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and rubbing his eyes a little before pushing them on.

“You – liked it?” Hermann said, shifting to plant his feet on the floor, if only to avoid meeting his eyes again. It was too early in the morning to be so high strung, as Newton said, and he would only get all wound up if he looked at him too much. He wasn't fond of the way his body seemed on high alert around him, sensory organs honed on him whenever they could be.

“Yeah... I'm a cuddly kinda guy. When I'm comfortable with someone. Which is pretty rare.” Newt said. Hermann just nodded a minute amount, standing up.

Such longing he had felt that past year that with Newton finally there, he was overloaded with sensation. It was too much unreciprocated intensity, and so he tended to shut down as a fail-safe, a popped fuse inside him for the center of his mind that wanted to scream at the other man. He wanted to grip his arms, stare into his eyes, tell him everything that had been on his mind. He wanted to tell him how empty his life had felt without Newton in it, and that even the phone calls hadn't been enough.

But he remained quiet as he walked towards the bathroom, burying them in the frozen recesses of his heart. Newton was only there for another day or so. Any professions he wanted to make would only ensure alienation. Newt had always known that Hermann was an intense man, but never that he so much as thought about relationships. He abhorred most human interaction and didn't hide it, preferring to keep his eyes on the stars. It was an easy assumption to reach that he was simply uninterested in base human needs. And Hermann knew enough about psychology to know that his behavior was a coping mechanism from the virulent bullying he had endured as a youth. He knew that in order to avoid being hurt, he forced himself into introversion. It worked well enough with his personality, anyway.

He spent enough time in the bathroom washing up and changing for the day that he was able to squash the bitterness for just a while longer. He wanted to cherish the time he had with Newton, and bemoaning his love internally was no way to do it. Perhaps if Newton enjoyed his time enough with him he would want to return sooner than a year. Or even invite Hermann to stay for a few days in Tokyo. The thought alone was enough to put a smile back on his face, one that he could carry with him for the rest of the day.

The rest of the day was as mundane as it was lovely, equal measures of comfortable and familiar. Hermann had spent some time showing Newton his current research and listening to his input on it; they had even made plans for Hermann to consult with Newton about the Jaeger redesigns when it came to Kaiju cleanup. They had gone out of the Shatterdome after and spent the afternoon walking through the Bone Slums, getting a late lunch at a little shop on the corner of the street where they had drifted.

“It's crazy how calm it is here now.” Newt said as they stepped back out to the street, moving towards a nearby bench.

“Indeed it is. The rebuild effort was massive and only took about six months. People have resettled in the area... it's become something of a tourist spot these days.” Hermann chuckled softly. There were still remnants of the Kaiju that the city had yet to address; the emergency bunkers and the actual bones of Otachi that had simply been moved out of the street itself, too heavy and burdensome to move safely yet. The suggestions to have the Jaegers move them was the only real option, but they were all still out of commission or had been sent to work in the worst disaster areas.

“Yeah? Everyone eager to see the spot where two unlikely heroes saved the day by doing something incredibly ill-advised and super fucking rad?” Newt said, grinning wide as he stabbed a dumpling with his utensil.

“More that the bones are still intact here since we haven't been able to remove them yet.” Hermann corrected, chuckling at his optimistic way of looking at it.

He didn't feel like any sort of hero himself, but he could absolutely see it in Newt. Hermann had only tagged along for the ride, as it were. Up until he realized that Newt would die a horrific death by trying to drift with the kaiju again, he was thoroughly convinced that his partners theories were ridiculous. He had only wanted to safeguard him; instead, they ended up saving the world with the knowledge gained by his crazy scheme. Hermann didn't have it in him to take any sort of credit, not when he had tried so hard to dismiss his ideas before.

“That's pretty cool too, I guess.” Newt chuckled.

“I do worry about the long term health implications of the bones being there... Obviously they've been sanitized and scrubbed clean with the solution you discovered, but has there been further research into those sorts of concerns?” Hermann thought out loud.

“Nah, man. Once they're cleaned up they're just bones. Just like any old creature, just big and heavy. I'm honestly pretty surprised they're still standing and haven't been cut down and made into _bone-_ r powder by the black market.” Newt said, putting a groan-inducing emphasis on the word 'boner'.

“I... suppose it's just too risky for them? PPDC does have regular patrols that come through the area.” Hermann bit his tongue, avoiding chiding him in public for his off-color wording.

“Maybe, but I wouldn't underestimate the sheer demand for that powder. Lotta dudes really think it can make them as powerful and virile as a Kaiju. I've even heard a few people swear up and down it makes your c-” Newt began.

“Newton!” Hermann cut him off before he had to hear more about the intricacies of the supposed effect the bone powder had.

Newton only giggled in delight, jamming a full dumpling into his mouth. Hermann suppressed the urge to smile at the sight.

//

That night, they had dinner with Mako Mori, who was delighted to see Newt and tested him on his Mandarin, purposely throwing him off by speaking in a mixture of it, English, and Japanese. Newt had become flustered almost immediately; he knew a cursory amount of Japanese from both anime and his time in Tokyo, but Mandarin had always evaded his tongue. Hermann watched how delighted Mako became when he attempted to match her word for word in her language mix and laughed as Newt yelled and let his head slam into the mess hall table when he failed and stuttered. She clapped him on the back affectionately.

“You will get it. I trust in your intelligence, Mister Geiszler.” She assured him, smiling a lovely smile.

“Linguistics have never been my strong suit. It's amazing I still know German, but I blame that guy and his love of yelling at me in it.” Newt gestured to Hermann, who smirked and gave no response. He enjoyed playing it 'cool' when they were out and about, giving no indication that he was ever anything more than even keeled.

The two had a great deal of affection for Mako, who they had known since she was barely ten years old, brought back by Stacker Pentecost to raise as his own. In her pain and confusion at the loss of her family, she had spent a lot of time wandering the various Domes, and sometimes would end up in the laboratory. Neither man had the heart to shoo her away, particularly because she had been so well-behaved, and so she often ended up sat on Hermann's comfortable chair, eating Newton's cache of snacks and giggling at their banter. Newton even learned to self-censor after nearly having his head removed by Stacker when Mako returned to him cheerfully singing the word 'bitch'.

When they said their goodbyes to Mako, who was leaving early to meet up with Raleigh in San Francisco for a desperately needed few days off, they returned to Hermann's room.

“Well, that was a relaxing day.” Hermann remarked softly.

“It helps that the world isn't primed to end at any minute like it was before. Really helps with the general mood of the place, y'know? I almost miss it.” Newton laughed, moving to the side of the bed he had claimed to go through his bag, tossing his notepad on the floor beside it as he pulled out clothing and a towel.

“You would, wouldn't you? You're a proper adrenaline junkie.” Hermann said, shaking his head.

“Hey man, at least my idea of fun isn't doing the Sunday crossword.” Newton snorted.

“The Sunday crossword? There hasn't been a newspaper with one of those in years, Newton. You're getting dim in your advancing age.” Hermann shot back, the slightest hint of a smirk twitching the corners of his lips.

“Oh, ouch, this coming from the dude who wears sweater vests and can't drink coffee after noon without worrying it'll keep him up all night? I'm wounded!” Newton put a hand over his heart, grinning. He pulled what Hermann assumed was a small toiletry bag out of the larger one.

“The sweater vest comment again? You really are losing your touch!” Hermann said. The thing about the coffee was entirely true, but Newt was easy enough to distract from it.

“Oh, this fight isn't over, but I have to shower. Gotta break in that tub of yours, since I'm sure you bathe in like, essential oils and crap. It looks like you've never used it before so I'm gonna go grime it up.” Newton actually stuck his tongue out a little, moving towards the bathroom.

“You had better not **grime up** anything of mine, Newton!” Hermann glared.

“Hey man, you can feel free to stop me, but I'm gonna be naked.” Newton laughed as he closed and locked the door behind him before Hermann could react.

“Newton!” Hermann barked, sitting on the bed as he listened to the water starting up.

Hermann pressed the back of his hands to his burning cheeks, hoping to cool them. He hated more than a little that even the mention of Newton's nudity had set his heart racing. He was no teenager with raging hormones, so why now? Even as a teenager his hormones had never really raged, so to speak. It was more of a polite bubbling, like a running creek rather than a turbulent river. Science and the stars had always held far more interest to him then matters of the flesh. He had preferred it that way, truth be told, but now as he struggled to relax himself he found his mind aflood with fantasies. The daydreams that were usually dominated by thoughts of space exploration and alien planets were now focused on the bathing man in his bathroom.

His efforts to avoid the thoughts were entirely futile; with Newt so close, so accessible, his mind was racing. How would Newt react if Hermann were to enter the bathroom while he was bathing? Would he yell and carry on? Would he crack jokes about Hermann wanting to see him naked? … Or would he entice him closer? Would he invite him to look him up and down and see just how extensive his tattoos were? Would he want Hermann to touch him the way he had never touched another? Perhaps Newton would even want to touch him, pleased to see him reduced to such base behavior.

Hermann gave his head a rough shake, bringing his hand to his arm and pinching it. It was so wildly inappropriate to think such things... it was rude, even! Newt was a guest, a friend; not someone he should be obsessing over. He loved him, but to belittle them both by reducing him to a sexual object was deplorable. Hermann needed to get himself under control. He took a deep breath, flexing the muscles of his thighs; he had heard once that doing so aided with the more... obvious parts of arousal. Sitting down on the bed, he tried desperately to clear his mind. If Newt were to come back to him sporting tented trousers there's no telling how he would react. Poorly, he assumed.

He stretched his legs out in front of him and pulled in a deep sigh, closing his eyes tight. He could easily just go for a walk to cool off, spend some time in the frigid recesses of the Shatterdome... but he couldn't convince himself to move. He was trapped in Newt's gravitational pull, and the only one strong enough to yank away from it was Newt himself. A part of him resented the other man for it. He would leave the following day without a thought, leaving Hermann to mourn him again. He resented himself more for feeling that way, because Newt couldn't help how Hermann felt.

God, if he could only spend the night without being buried in his own racing thoughts he might be able to go another year without seeing him. The reprieve might hold him over, keep him afloat until business next brought Newt back to him.

The clicking of the bathroom door's lock brought Hermann's eyes up.

It was a motion that he instantly regretted because of the sight he was granted. He couldn't pull his eyes away, color rushing back to his cheeks. Newt entered the room, a towel around his waist, his glasses on his face, and nothing more covering him. And oh, how extensive his tattooing was; every bit of his torso was covered in vibrant ink, and it clearly went below the towel at his hips. All of the progress he had made in calming his body was shot instantly; he was only thankful that his hips were angled away, his arms over his lap.

“Hey, Hermann... I've been uh, meaning to ask you about something.” Newt said, walking slowly towards the bed.

Hermann felt cornered, and had forgotten to breathe. He only nodded.

“Do you... do you remember what it was like, when we drifted?” Newt asked, shifting to sit on the bed beside him, hand resting on the covers.

“I do, yes. Very vividly.” Hermann choked out, forcing himself to breathe. He was so close, so _beautiful_. His eyes, god, his eyes, they weren't just green but a nebula of colors so brilliant that even the ink on his skin couldn't compare. His heart slammed in his chest.

“For the past year I just – I can't stop thinking about it. The way it felt to be **connected** with you like that was... it felt right, Hermann.” Newton said, his voice taking on a tone Hermann had never had the pleasure of hearing.

“You felt that way?” Hermann managed, shifting a little to face him better, not caring about the state his body was in. Instinct was washing over him, moving him of its own accord.

“I miss it, Herms. I – I want it again. All I can ever think about is how much I want us to be inside each other again. I don't care how, I just _need_ it.” Newton's voice was soft and laced with intention.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I'm a bastard, thanks for reading, stay tuned <3 :D


	5. Collision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's what the rating is for, so if you don't want to read smut, feel free to skip over this one.

As if he was standing outside of himself, Hermann barely registered what he was doing until he was doing it. He dove forward, capturing Newt's face within his palms, kissing him deep and messy. He was certain their teeth smacked together, but he didn't care, he couldn't care, not when Newt was throwing his arms over his shoulders and pulling his still damp body against Hermann's. Newton's words rang in his ears, from the tip of his spine down; he wanted this, he wanted _Hermann_ , and by jove, Hermann would give him everything he desired. There was little rhyme or reason to the way he kissed, but he did it with all the passion that had been pent up within him over the years, relishing the way Newt moaned at the slip of his tongue.

Newt's fingers slid down his arms, circling his shoulder-blades and pulling the tips down his back. Even through the fabric of his shirt and vest it was electrifying, causing him to mimic the movement on Newt. He could swear the ink beneath his skin had raised up just a little, because he could trace the lines with ease. Was that something that happened to tattoos? He would have to ask later if it was adrenaline or if he was just hallucinating. When he got to Newt's hips he squeezed, finding them to be a tactile thrill. They were so different from his own, which were thin and sharp. Newt was soft, so soft, and Hermann found himself stroking his sides tenderly, enjoying the feeling of the yielding flesh beneath his suddenly needy hands.

And then Newton paused in the kiss, though his mouth did not move.

“Can I take this off?” He mumbled, voice husky as he tugged Hermann's shirt in the back.

Hermann could only give a quick nod, leaning back and pulling his hands from Newt's sides. Before he could even touch the buttons of the vest, his hands were captured by Newt's. Newt stared into his eyes with a little smile on his lips.

“Hey!  _I_ wanted to take it off you.” He said, matter of fact.

The way he said it sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin, and he was rewarded with another kiss. Newt guided Hermann's hands back to his hips, squeezing his fingers, encouraging him to return to his mindless kneading. Newt's own fingers were deft in unbuttoning Hermann's vest and shirt, and once there was the slightest bit of flesh open to him, Newt's hands were on it. Hermann gasped into his mouth at the wholly unfamiliar sensation of another person's hands stoking down his chest, and the thumbs that pointedly circled his nipples. He never knew them to be so sensitive; but then again, Newt brought a great many things to surface in him.

He did know, however, that his neck was incredibly sensitive, as it was in most people, so when Newt began to pepper little open mouth kisses to it he groaned low in his throat, head tilting back. Newt paused, leaning back to look at him for a moment, eyes wide with what seemed to be... surprise?

“Holy shit that was the hottest thing I've ever heard. That's how you sound? I should have done this **years** ago.” Newt's voice was an almost reverent whisper.

Hermann, who had never felt 'hot' in his life, felt a deep surge of passion within him that made his heart slam in his chest. Though his prick was already hard, it almost **ached** now, straining against his trousers. He pulled his hands from Newt's sides to clutch his face again, holding him steady.

“We were prideful fools.” He said, pulling him back into a kiss, tongue delving between his lips.

With a tiny squeak, Newt returned it, clinging to his open shirt as Hermann's hands took a new path, emboldened by the way the other man pressed against him. His fingers slid down the curve of his spine, luxuriating in the way Newton arched against him, groaning softly as he reached his mark. Large fingers curled into the ample flesh of his bottom, kneading lightly. He had somehow barely noticed before, but Newton had ditched the towel, now fully nude and pressed against him, cock stiff and leaking against his belly.

It was all for him.

The way Newt whimpered, the way he strained to both press back into his hands and forward into against his body.

The way he brought his hands to Hermann's hair, tangling his fingers into it as Hermann squeezed him.

The desperate nature of his kiss as they tried to cram fourteen years of buried and ignored passion into one another.

It was all for him, and Hermann was greedy for it in a way he had never allowed himself to be before. Greedy and full of an odd dual sense of pride and sadness that the man he had desired in secret for so long had wanted him too. Newt's hands dipped down to undo Hermann's belt, fingers trembling and fumbling as Hermann pressed his lips to his neck in the way that had felt so exquisite on himself. Newt's voice went high, one hand going back up to hold Hermann's head there as he moaned out.

“Hermann, please – I'm not strong enough, I – I'm not gonna be able to hold off much longer if you keep that up!” Newt gasped out, though his fingers held Hermann's hair tight.

Hermann, ecstatic at the idea of Newt losing it against his belly, did not cease as requested. No, Newt's words only spurred him on. He had gone unhinged, his desire blooming into something possessive and desperate. He needed to please Newton, to make him come undone, to leave him so boneless and flush with endorphins that the thought of going back to Tokyo would seem absurd. His fingers gripped him tight for a moment before one pulled away, slipping between their bodies to instead grip his cock, marveling in the feel of it. He was so **hot** , so thick, and straining against his hand. The fingers still at his ass grazed over Newt's entrance, causing a choked noise to catch in his throat that Hermann felt in his mouth. He groaned in response, pulling his lips away only long enough to whisper to him.

“Let yourself go, Newton – you'll still have all of me, however you want me.”

He punctuated his words by stroking him, slicking his length with his own precome. Newt rocked into his hand, thrusting gracelessly, whimpering out when Hermann's fingers circled his hole. Dry though he was, Hermann swore he felt his muscles trying to pull him in, to entice him into what he could only imagine would be overwhelming heat. The thought practically made him growl his desire into Newt's throat. The fabric of his trousers rubbed against him each time he moved, the wet spot growing quickly as his fingertips slid over the tip of Newt's length.

“Oh my fucking God, Hermann!” Newt gasped out as his climax hit him, coming messy between them.

Hermann felt it when Newton orgasmed. He didn't just feel it in the twitching of the cock in his hand, or the way thick strings of come shot against their chests; he felt it deep in his bones. The way Newton cried out his name against his ear had sent a vibration through him, resonating through every nerve ending, setting him ablaze inside. He had never felt something so intense – not since they had drifted a year before, and even then this was inherently different.

“Newt...” Hermann whispered, laying the other man down carefully on his back as the aftershocks set him to trembling. He pushed his shirt and vest all the way off, wiping his hand on them without a thought. Laying himself down on his good hip but propped on an elbow, he kissed at Newton's cheek, his jawline, the corner of his lips, his hand slowly stroking down his chest and hip without any real pattern. There was a moment of gentle, lovely calm as Hermann allowed himself to indulge in the sight of Newton naked and pleasured beside him.

“Hermann, you're an animal! I wish I knew that before, holy shit.” Newton breathed, turning his head to look at him with a little grin. Hermann didn't **intentionally** puff his chest out with pride at his words, but it still happened.

“It isn't a trait I was entirely aware of.” Hermann admitted as he trailed his fingertips up the length of Newt's... still hard cock. His brows raised, and he looked down.

“Oh, hey. I guess my refractory period when it comes to you is like, 30 seconds! Oh my god dude, are you still wearing your pants? That's just unacceptable. Lemme see that dick!” Newt shot bolt upright as he looked down at Hermann's trousers.

Hermann had no time to be self-conscious, no time to worry how Newton would react, because Newt's hands were on him right after his last (rather crude) word was spoken. No longer too overwhelmed to have motor control, he undid his trousers and gently began to pull them over his hips, taking his normal aches and pains into consideration. Hermann closed his eyes for a moment as his length hit the open air. He wasn't naked very often, so the exposure was strange to him. He felt Newt pulling the trousers and his underwear all the way off, hearing them drop to the floor with a soft 'fwump'. When his eyes opened again, he was met with the vision of Newt staring, slack-jawed, at his penis. Of everything that had happened that night, **that** was what caused his cheeks to burn red. He wanted to hide himself, unsure of the meaning behind the staring. Was he inadequate in some way? Roiling worries began to pull from the corners of his psyche that he had pushed them into before.

“Yeah... I uh... I want that in me.” Newt said in a soft voice, his tone the same one that had begun their torrid encounter.

Hearing him say that so plainly was unthinkably sexy that he could swear he felt his brain going out of focus. His heart slammed in his chest as he sat back up, meeting Newton in the middle as the other man moved to straddle his thighs. He left enough space to give Hermann's length a cursory touch, tips sliding from base to head, drawing out another low groan from him. Newt closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath through his nose.

“That's seriously the sexiest noise I've ever heard and I really, really want to hear it more.” Newt mumbled quickly, giving a soft squeak of surprise when Hermann gripped his chin and dragged him into a deep kiss.

“Newton...” Hermann breathed against his lips as Newton took hold of him more firmly.

“God, the way you say my name is fucking amazing.” Newt moaned, breaking away from him for just a moment.

Hermann watched his free hand reach behind, where his toiletry bag had been tossed earlier, fishing through it. He couldn't see what it was, but his assumption was correctly proven to be lubrication. Had he been planning this? Did Newt intend to come on to him from the beginning? Any thought left his mind as the hand-warmed liquid was smoothed over his length, eliciting a moan. He looked down only when he realized he could feel Newton's hands shaking again, and caught his wrists with his own.

“You're shaking.” He observed, frowning.

“... yeah, looks that way, huh?” Newton laughed, glasses falling down his nose.

“Are you... frightened?” Hermann worried out loud. Were they going too fast? The thought of doing anything Newton didn't fully want hit him full on in the chest.

“What? No! No, not at all! I'm just... I'm **really** excited. Maybe a little nervous, but I promise I'm not scared. I want this, big guy. Way more than I think you understand. Like, I _need_ it way more than I've needed like, anything ever. Please.” Newt said, meeting his eyes. There was the ghost of some other meaning hidden in his words, in his wide and wild eyes, but Hermann, too far gone to seek it out, just released his arms and pulled him into another kiss. Who was he to question further, when all he had wanted for the past year was on top of him, shaking with desire?

Newt took one of Hermann's hands, uncapping the lube with his other again and squeezing some out over his fingers. Hermann, who was woefully inexperienced but very well-read, appreciated the guidance and understood, kissing along his jawline and mumbling into his ear.

“Lay down on your back so I can get to you.”

Newt practically sprang off of him, flopping on to his back and spreading his legs obscenely, grinning at Hermann. Hermann's brows raised as he was able to take a good look at him for the first time. The hand not covered in lubricant stroked up one of his legs, from shin to hip, fascinated by him, by the thickness of his body. His thighs in particular held particular interest to Hermann; they were perhaps the meatiest part of him, covered in tattoos. The strangest desire to sink his teeth into him sprang up from some ignored part of his psyche, to be ignored further for the time being in favor of the task at hand. Newt gave a little whimper when Hermann brought his lube-coated fingers to his hole, lifting his legs on reflex. Hermann couldn't help but grin at the reaction, watching with interest as he prodded him.

“Holy shit, just put them in, don't tease me!” Newt whined, one arm going around the back of his knees to hold his legs in the air. He pushed his ass towards his fingers, needy.

“Now now, this is necessary, Newton. I want you to be prepared properly. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I hurt you.” He returned, but did relent enough to push one finger inside. He bit down on the inside of his lip at the feeling. Newton was as tight and hot as he imagined, but so much more; he was _yielding_ to his finger, opening to him, desire overriding his body's natural instinct to close off. He tilted his head as he watched the other man. He watched his face as his finger sank in, watched his hole take him in; Newt bit his lip as Hermann tried another finger. More resistance was felt, but it brought a delicious moan from Newton's lips. He pushed back against him, greedy for more.

“Patience, Newton.” Hermann urged softly, practically cooing.

“Can't be patient. Want more.” Newton gasped.

“You'll have it. But I won't hurt you to give it.” Hermann reminded him.

He wouldn't tell him that the urge to bypass preparation was practically beating at him, that he wanted nothing more than to plunge into him and never let him go. He couldn't tell him that he was so hard it hurt, that all of his bottled up passion had hit a boiling point and that he wasn't even sure if he'd last a minute once he was finally buried in him the way he so desperately wanted. He would never tell him that he was so terrified of losing him again that it had borne a need to make this perfect, that his every action was a plea for him to stay. Nothing was more important to Hermann than proving that Newton had reasons to stay that were more important than money and status. Not his own pain, both in his body and his heart, not his own pleasure.

“Another. Please.” Newton mumbled.

“Of course.” Hermann answered, leaning in to place a kiss to the back of his raised thigh as he pushed, a third slick finger slowly moving in to join the others. Licking his lips, he drew them out almost entirely before pressing back in, counting mentally. He knew a thing or two about anatomy, and was counting the inches; one, two, three, four... His middle finger was the longest, and with it he pressed up against Newton's walls, grinning when it ran over the spot he sought out.

“Oh my god!” Newton cried, muscles clenching tight around the digits. “Okay so you know about that, cool, you're full of surprises but if you do that a few more times I'm gonna fucking die so could you please either stop or do that with your cock instead? Because I'm _super_ ready for that!”

It was hard not to feel proud of the high pitch Newt's voice reached, the way he rambled with pleasure. He scissored his fingers, avoiding his prostate and sticking to the task of loosening him. He groaned when he felt Newt purposely clenching and relaxing his muscles around his fingers in tune with Hermann's movements. At that point, Newton had apparently had enough. He reached down to grasp his wrist and pull his hand away. He moved fast then, sitting back upright and practically pouncing on Hermann (though he did note that Newt was careful not to strain his hip or make him bend in a painful way). He wrapped one arm around his shoulders and took hold of Hermann's still slick length in his other hand.

“You ready?” Newt said, mouth barely an inch from his as he rubbed Hermann's tip against his hole. Hermann could only nod, stunned to silence as he watched him. Newt's hips moved in a way that was mind-shatteringly erotic, a way that caused his breath to hitch as he nodded. He braced a hand back on the bed for leverage, his brain already swimming in sensation so deep that he had a hard time keeping himself uptight. The position was so unbelievably intimate, Newton's cock pressed to his torso, his legs holding tight to Hermann's hips, their foreheads pressed together as Newton began to sink down.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck...” Newton gasped into his lips.

“Newton, you amaze me.” Hermann whispered, hand sliding along his back. He strained not to push up into him, letting Newton set the pace that was best for him.

“Fuck, Herms, this feels – feels right.” Newt gasped once he was fully seated, taking in as much of Hermann as the position allowed.

For a moment, neither moved. Newton laid his arms on Hermann's shoulders, peppering little kisses across his face. Hermann basked in the attention, in the sensations flooding every sense; the way it smelled, the thickness of the air, how tight Newt was inside, the way their breaths were quick and short. It was very nearly sensory overload, and mentally, he was completely overwhelmed. Part of him wanted to cry. He had spent so long wanting Newton, wanting this intimacy, and he could scarcely believe that he had it. He held that feeling at bay, focusing instead on the stranger ones that evaded description, like fragments of once-cherished memories lost to time. The bond that had formed when they drifted was still there, and Hermann could still feel it if he tried when they were apart... but when they were like this, it was strong.

Did the Drift bind lovers closer, even after the connection was broken? When those who had drifted made love, did they feel what the other felt? It was so intense and beautiful that Hermann could only assume that it was because of the bond forged on the day the world almost ended. When Newton began to move, rocking his hips slowly up and down, Hermann swore he could feel it in every part of his body. His lips parted, and his hand slid up the back of his neck to pull him in. He wanted them to be connected in every way possible. To be, as Newton had said before, inside each other in any way they could be.

“Newton... I missed you so much. I don't – I don't know if I can go on without you.” Hermann whispered against his lips, kissing him in breaks and pants.

“Come to Tokyo with me. I need you – need you there with me. Okay?” Newt gasped, pace beginning to quicken. He squeezed around him as if to punctuate his words, and Hermann groaned into his mouth. Newt's tongue slid between his lips, silencing any response he may have had, burying him in pleasure greater than he had ever known. There was no time to contemplate his words, no time to assess the implications. All he could think, all he could feel, was _Newton_ , around him, inside him, consuming his being in waves. He forfeited the leverage gained by bracing himself for the ability to hold him with both arms, wrapping both tight around him and meeting his hips in the middle. He managed to stay sitting upright; he would be in agony the next day, but he didn't care, couldn't care, adrenaline numbing any perception of pain.

Newt cried out, breaking from his lips as his speed picked up, movements becoming erratic and frantic. Hermann angled his hips the best he could to brush against his prostate with each thrust. He was rewarded with Newton clinging, crying out as he impaled himself. The noises he made were primal, unhinged, and all for Hermann, who held him tight around the waist, pouring as much of himself as he could into their sex. He knew he would come undone soon; and when Newton whispered like a dying man begging for water, he did.

“Come inside me, Hermann, I want.. I _need_ to feel it!”

Hermann buried his face against his neck and his cock inside as deep as he could as he came, holding on to him as if he would slip off the face of the earth upon letting go. He cried out against his skin, and again as he felt Newton's walls clenching tight around him as he met his own end between their bodies. They held each other through the little waves of liquid pleasure that followed with each shift of the hips, Newton's fingers stroking through Hermann's hair, Hermann's hands holding him as close as possible.

Hermann was the one trembling now as he came down, body wrecked. Newton picked up on it quickly, carefully pulling Hermann's cock from inside and prying himself from his grasp to lay them down. He didn't bother cleaning either of them up, and Hermann was too far gone to care. He pulled the blanket over them and placed himself back in Hermann's arms, hand stroking his cheek. Exhaustion and contentment pulsed through him, slow and soothing.

“Now you're shaking.” Newt said softly.

“I – I think I'm just a little overwhelmed.” Hermann explained, thin arms clinging to him.

“Me too. That was... crazy intense. Are you okay?” Newt asked.

“Since you arrived I had been looking for some way to tell you how I felt... hell, I've been trying to figure out how to say it for a year now. I haven't been the same since you left. Forgive my use of cliché, but it's been as if there's been no light in my life. I love you, Newton, and I've been too cowardly to say it for far too long.” Hermann said. Speaking the words out loud had the dual effect of lifting the metaphoric weight from his chest and filling him with dread as he waited for Newt's reaction.

“I know, Hermann. I've known since we drifted... I love you, too. And you're so lucky I love you enough not to pull a Han Solo and just leave it at 'I know'.” Newt said, resting his body against his.

“You do?” Hermann's voice was small, full of disbelief.

“Come on man. I pretty much just begged you to fuck me and you're gonna lay here and act like it's still doubtful that I have feelings for you?” Newt didn't sound nearly as offended as his words implied.

“I -” Hermann began, but was cut off by Newton's lips covering his own.

“Shh...” He kissed him lightly, then shifted to lay back against his chest. “I love you, okay? No matter what happens, please just remember that I love you. And I'm like, two seconds from passing out 'cause I'm super warm and comfy, so let's get our cuddle on and sleep.”

“Very well. I love you, as well.” Hermann returned. He had never felt so content. He was just happy that Newton was already falling asleep against him and not looking at his face to see that his eyes were filling with tears. He knew he would never hear the end of it if he had. When sleep overtook him it was warm, and beautiful, and deep.

 

//

//

//

//

 

“ _No matter what happens, please just remember that I love you.”_

Recalling the words the next day brought little more than a deep, unshakable nausea.

Had it all been a lie?

 


	6. Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann wakes up alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting! I had to write a 20+ page paper for a class that I'd been ignoring all semester, whoops.

Hermann woke nude, only his lower half covered by the blanket. The first thing that he felt was the cold. It was freezing in the room, or at least his outer extremities. His feet were ice cubes, and jamming them further into the covers did no good. He turned himself, desperate to hold on to Newt and use him as something of a personal space heater.

But when he turned, the bed was empty. He frowned, assuming at first that he had gotten up to wash up. It was something he would have to do as well, as he hadn't bothered to clean himself the night before and the remnants of their sex lingered dry on his chest and belly. He gave a little smile. Perhaps it was Newt's influence that made him not mind the filth so much. He even hazarded a bit of pride as he recalled the way Newton had begged him, the way he had clung to him, the marvelous desperation that had governed his movements. He didn't need to wonder if he had been any good, Newton's body providing all the empirical evidence he needed.

Slowly sitting up, Hermann tried not to grimace at the aches in his body. Radiant pain in his hip that traveled down his leg made the act of moving his legs off the bed a chore. He would have to find his painkillers later; for the time being, his priority was Newton. Pulling his cane from where it was propped against the wall, leaning heavily on it as he stood. Dragging the blanket with him, if only to keep out the cold, he moved to the bathroom.

As he moved towards it, a realization began to sink in, curling into his gut. Newton's bag was gone, and the bathroom was silent. Newton was rarely quiet. Hermann's throat went tight as he tried the door handle and felt it open, swinging open to find it empty. Tears stung his eyes, the heavy weight of loss once again burying itself in his gut, weighing his limbs down. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, and was struck by the look on his own face, red-eyed and gaunt with renewed sorrow. He moved back to the bed, feeling suddenly weak and more than a little nauseous as he laid back down, retrieving his phone from the nightstand.

There were no messages. He swallowed hard to try and banish the lump closing his throat, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. Once again, as before, his finger hovered over the call button, but any courage he had gained the night before had once more fled. Chucking the phone to the side, he pulled a pillow to his chest, holding it tight. The tears that he had tried to hold back spilled forth; the pillow smelled like him. The whole damned room smelled like him, reminded Hermann of him. What had happened? Did Newton wake and see Hermann there and regret his actions so much he left without so much as a goodbye? Did something urgent pull him back to Tokyo with such ferocity that it left a spiritual wound in Hermann, as deep as the breaking of a drift bond? Had he left so quickly intentionally, or had something terrible happened?

Was it Hermann's fault?

He buried his face in the pillow and bit back the urge to scream, his pain so acute that he swore it would rip him to shreds.

And then, as easily as the sorrow came, the anger followed.

He sat back up, blinking back tears, shoving the backs of his hands across his eyes to try and halt them. Though they continued, he ignored them, taking his phone in hand once again and unlocking it. Rage moved his shaking fingers to the call button, and a clenched jaw spoke the voicemail when there was no answer.

“Newton. Where did you go? Did it shame you so much to be with me that you ran off to Tokyo without even having the common courtesy of saying goodbye? How dare you. How _dare_ you be so cruel after the things you said, after the hope you gave me! Was it some – some joke to you? I've always known you to be a pompous bastard, but to... to _use_ me in that way? Does our history mean nothing to you? At – at least show me the kindness of telling me to piss off, would you? I don't understand why you would come back into my life and make me feel like there's some chance that we... I can't even say it. Call me back, Newton. Call me back or never speak to me again.”

All of the venom left Hermann's voice by the end of the message, his anger fizzling out. His mind was swimming with questions and possible answers to the situation he found himself in. In all their years as a pair, Newton had never been so cruel, so sadistic as to do something like that. Had Tokyo changed him on such a fundamental level that he would purposely hurt Hermann in such a way? Sure, they jabbed at one another, but there was never anything malicious about it. It always came from a place of respect, or at the very least as a crude form of stress relief. If they ever managed to say something that cut the other too deep there was immediate regret and apology.

Newton may have been a strange man, but he was never inhumane.

Clutching the pillow tight, seeking comfort from something, anything, Hermann watched his phone. Maybe Newton was still on the plane and couldn't answer. The trip from Hong Kong to Tokyo was somewhere around four hours, wasn't it? And it was only nine in the morning. Clenching his jaw, Hermann laid back down once again, resting the phone in the spot that Newton had laid his head not long before. Were it not for the physical evidence of their coupling left behind he might have been content to write the whole thing off as some fever dream and plunge himself headlong into his studies for distraction.

Instead, he just laid there for some indeterminate amount of time, allowing his eyes to go out of focus as he drifted in and out of emotional states. At some point, he tumbled into a tumultuous sleep that provided no relief for his aching body. It could barely have been considered sleep; it was more of a brief period of unconsciousness forced by his overworked emotions, the sort of full shut-down-reboot that was meant to refresh him.

When he woke, though, it was noon, and he felt nothing at all. He supposed it was something of a relief. To feel nothing was sometimes better than to feel too much, after all.

He sat up once again, slowly, grimacing as his joints popped in a most wretched way. His hip felt a little swollen to the touch. He supposed a soak in the tub might do him some good, since he didn't have any obligations that day anymore. He had planned on seeing Newton to the airport for his afternoon flight, but considering the circumstances, he didn't even want to think about that. His schedule was regrettably clear. Later he would return to his research, perhaps work on cleaning up some of the data from his latest findings. Anything to avoid confronting the miasma of dark thoughts that had yet to resurface from his sleep.

He leaned down to rifle through his nightstand, yanking out the bottle of pills that would provide him with some measure of relief. Hermann tried to avoid taking them, fearful of dependency, but he couldn't handle the pain that day. Not when it was coming from every possible source. He could at least alleviate the physical. He uncapped the bottle and removed one, swallowing it dry and making a face. A painkiller, a soak in the tub; at least he could take care of his body. The crushing weight of the strangest rejection he had ever faced would be easier to bear in a body that could move without any atypical impediment.

Putting the bottle away, he glanced over his shoulder at his phone. There was no notification light blinking, no unread messages, no apology or explanation awaiting his attention. Taking hold of his cane, Hermann used it to slowly pull himself up, inching his way to the bathroom. He deplored the little hopeful part of his mind that forced his hand to take hold of the phone to bring it along just in case. Walking to the bathroom took a while, but gave him something to focus on. In the back of his mind, the questions would not cease, bombarding his subconscious.

Bathing would help.

Removing all remnants of the night before would help him to forget.

If Newton didn't call, what point was there in remembering, anyway?

If he wasn't so nervous and aware of the side effects of substance abuse, he could easily drug himself for a while. He could lose himself to the void, numb, silent, beautiful. He knew though that chemical dependency was a horrific thing, though, so he only entertained the thought briefly as he ran the water. Newton hadn't been wrong about how Hermann bathed. He absolutely did use essential oils, a specific combination recommended by the keeper of a shop in the Bone Slums. Lavender, peppermint, citrus, clove, jojoba oils; they smelled nice and actually had some properties that aided in the reduction of muscle swelling and some other things. As the water level raised, he dumped in the mixture and set his phone to the side of the tub before slipping in.

There was something about being in the hot water, breathing in the steam and washing away the filth that set his mind to wandering. Perhaps it was the addition of the painkillers that aided in the process, but he felt free to think more constructively about his situation once he was engulfed in the soothing heat of the bath. His mind cleared just enough for some pieces of the puzzle to start to slip into place, his own pain-driven irrationality pushed briefly to the side.

He had attributed Newton's distance over the year to being busy with his new job. Through their conversations, he found it to be at least partly true. He had become the head of their research and development department within a short time, overseeing the entire operation. Hermann only heard a few details of what went on there because legally, Newton's lips were sealed via a rather specific non-disclosure agreement. Nothing really unusual for the private sector, but Newton absolutely felt distant when he spoke of his work at Shao Industries.

He had stated also that the higher-ups were fine with him taking the days off after the conference to see Hermann... and seemed to have taken a particular interest in Hermann's work at the Shatterdome. They spoke for hours about Hermann's Schwartzchild modification theory, but he never remembered Newton having such a specific interest in physics and relativity. Not without there being some connection to earthly or alien biology, or without Hermann bringing it up on his own. Had Shao Industries sent Newton to pick at Hermann's brain for something? They had offered the two a job as a team but only Newton had accepted; were they looking to capitalize on Hermann's mind as well, using Newton as a proxy?

Was it really something so sinister?

Something that Newton said during their lovemaking the night before popped into his mind.

“ _Come to Tokyo with me. I need you – need you there with me.”_

Hermann's brows furrowed deeply, matching the frown that wove itself into his features. Newton was not one to admit he needed anyone for anything, but the way he had kept insisting that he needed Hermann... There was something more to it. There was something deeper that Hermann couldn't quite see. He was missing pieces, and the only conclusion he could reach was that Shao Industries had done something to him and were now using him in some sinister way.

On the side of the tub, Hermann's phone buzzed. He grabbed it; a text message had come in from Newton.

“ _I do not want to be around you anymore anyways. I should have just gone home after the conference. Have a good life, Hermann, without me in it.”_

The initial reaction Hermann had to the message was the overwhelming desire to cry at how heartless it was...

But that was quickly overridden by a worry so intense that Hermann rose from the bath and snatched a towel up, pulling it around himself as he got out. Since when did Newton text correctly? Since when was he so eloquently spoken through messaging? The man barely had the patience to put his signature on important documents when he was working at K-Science, and now he was spelling out “do not” and using capital letters in their proper places? It didn't sit well with Hermann. He knew Newton too well to take it at face value.

Not bothering with his cane, he moved back towards the bed, typing out a return text as he did.

“ _Newton, please tell me what's going on. I feel like there's something you aren't telling me.”_

He sat on the edge of the bed – Newton's side – hitting the call button as he sat, too impatient to wait for a response. It went straight to voice mail, and a return text came through.

“ _Stop calling me. I am not going to answer. I can't answer. I am busy. Know when to back off, would you?”_

The response only steeled his resolve, though the words hit him like a punch to the gut. Something sinister was at work there, something that Newton could not handle alone. He should have never let him leave – or at least put his pride aside to go with him in the first place. No matter how much the messages hurt, Hermann needed only to tell himself that there was a reason for it, a reason for all of this. Newton had come to him for help, cried out for it in a way that he knew Hermann would understand.

He didn't answer the text. He didn't need to.

He stood up and pulled his dresser drawer open, yanking out a few articles of clothing and tossing them haphazardly to the bed. He would pack quickly, and be on the next flight to Tokyo. The details would work themselves out somehow. The time for reservations and worries and introspection was past. Newton was fighting something, and Hermann made a promise to himself that he would not let him do it alone. In the end, all they had was one another.

Going back to the bed as he pulled on his underwear, Hermann dropped down to look below it, where he kept a duffel bag for the rare occasion he left Hong Kong.

He caught sight of something else, though.

A notepad. It was small and the cover was all garish colors.

It was Newton's notepad, the one he saw him writing in a number of times while there. He grabbed it, and the bag, and got up to get clothed. He had plenty of time to examine the contents when he was en route to Tokyo. Perhaps it would contain some clues as to what he was in for.

Within a half an hour, Hermann was on his way to the airport. Newton would be proud; he didn't even tell the higher-ups that he was leaving, buzzing with too much nervous energy to even give it consideration.

No matter what awaited him when he arrived, he would face it without fear.

Fortune favored the brave, after all.

 


	7. The Trifid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann examines the contents of the notepad left by Newton that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out. I've had some personal crap going on that's made it hard for me to focus.
> 
> I hope you're still enjoying this, and if so, please feel free to leave me a comment! I always love and appreciate them! 
> 
> This is a short-ish chapter but I definitely spent many many hours making the content. I swear I learn more when I'm writing fanfic than in college.

The notebook that Hermann had found held some secret, he just knew it. It had to. Nothing in it made any sense to him, but he knew Newton better than that. Even though Newton often seemed like a madman, there was always some stream of consciousness to his writings. Hermann had looked over countless notes throughout their years at each others sides and learned his shorthand front and back. What looked like total nonsense to others was clear to Hermann... but none of what he saw in the notepad was clicking. Only about six of the A5 sized papers were full, and three were drawings.

He would approach the contents scientifically, the way he did all things; if there was any meaning to be garnered by the pages, Hermann would find it in the four hours he traveled.

On the first page was a sketch of one of the nightmare creatures that they had seen during the drift. A lanky, insectoid creature with multiple eyes and limbs as sharp as knives. Hermann's throat went tight. Did Newton have the nightmares as well? Maybe they were both connected to that hellish place through the drift somehow, even after all that time. The dreams always felt far too real. Scrawled beneath the drawing was the name “Alice”, which caused Hermann to furrow his brows. Had he named the creature? It was a dangerous thought, and one that made Hermann exceptionally wary. He knew that Newton had a tendency to humanize creatures he didn't understand fully, and naming a thing like that was a surefire way to having real feelings towards them. Of everyone who worked during the war, no one was more against giving the Kaiju those catchy little names than Hermann, who thought they should be merely given designations based on their power.

Names like Otachi, Yamarashi, Leatherback, Raiju, Slattern; these made them sound more like pets than creatures hell bent on destroying everything they held dear. And to name the Precursor something human... well, Hermann didn't enjoy the thought one bit. He hoped there was another meaning for it as he flipped the page. The second and third pages were full of chemistry formulae, many he didn't recognize, some crossed out, others linked together with lines; the ones linked led to another line... one consisting of only dots and dashes. Written Morse code.

His heart began to pound. In the past, Newton had relayed messages to Hermann in that way when he was unable to speak to him verbally for whatever reason. Often it was because they were at a meeting in LOCCENT, or were seated next to one another at a presentation of some sort. Newton would tap and dash against the arm of his seat or against Hermann's thigh or arm to give running commentary in a way that was quiet and often scathing. It had become their own little language, since no one around them ever seemed to catch on to what they were doing. Newton referred to it as “Scientist Cant”, though Hermann pointed out to him every time that Morse code wasn't particularly scientific.

This time, there was only one word, and it was connected by a line to a group of molecular formulae. Hermann only recognized the one; C43H66N12O12S2\. ; Oxytocin, the “love hormone”. The message attached confused him.

\--.- ..- .. . - ·-·-·-

Quiet.

Oxytocin had been equated with silence, for some reason, and Hermann couldn't wrap his mind around it just yet. Why would Newton have written it in Morse code? To anyone else, the message would have looked like nonsense. Was he speaking to Hermann through the message, somehow? Or was he hiding it from someone in his life that was hurting him? He would have to jog his memory later on the other jumble of chemicals; his eye was drawn to the shadows of a drawing on the other side of the third page.

When he turned to look at it, his heart nearly skipped a beat. He recognized the drawing instantly. It was the Trifid nebula, one of his childhood favorites. With his first telescope he had found it in the night sky, even before seeing the larger Lagoon nebula which is visible in the same section of sky. He had been transfixed with it. An interstellar nursery, where stars were birthed from the gentle chaos of the nebula's three 'lobes'. It had held his attention for many of his summer nights, transfixed by the possibilities and feeling a strange sort of kinship with it. Trifid was three types of nebula in one, an oddity in space while Hermann was an oddity on Earth. Every time Hermann saw it he felt like a boy again, filled with wonder and yearning for a life beyond the rock they were bound to.

Newton had drawn it almost perfectly, positioning the stars within and around it almost right. Had he done it from memory or with a reference? Herman gently ran a finger over it. He must have known that Hermann loved that particular stellar object. He was becoming more and more convinced that the notepad contained some frantic message to him. Why else would there be those little hints? Newton wasn't exactly a social man, Hermann couldn't imagine anyone else would understand. Had he left the notepad on purpose?

He tore his eyes from the sight of the nebula, to the next page. There was a large sketch of a key on the top of the page, and a paragraph of writing... Then line upon line of nonsense lettering. He frowned as he read the paragraph. It referenced Hermann's paper, but the way it was phrased was strange and clunky.

“ _W hen you take into account the Schwarzchild Wormhole Breach theory, how is it possible to get the throat to stay open the way the Kaiju did? can we even fathom their minds **.** Can we begin to understand the hive? Do we have the sort of higher comprehension necessary to wrap our heads around it? It seems insane to question it. Under no circumstances do I believe that the Breach can be explained by science as we know it.”_

Hermann read it over and over again. The blatant glorification of the Kaiju wasn't terribly surprising, but the mention of the “hive” set Hermann's skin crawling. Visions of monsters were pushed down in his subconscious; he had limited time to find the message he so hoped was there, and getting all bent out of shape would do neither of them any good. He took a deep breath, shaking his head and pulling the pen out of the pocket on his chest. He tapped it on the paper, seeking out the answers within his own mind. Everything about the notepad seemed deliberate and frantic. The Morse code had brought to light memories of time spent with Newton, as did the scribbled chemical formulae. The nebula hinted to him something that he couldn't quite pinpoint... And the key at the top of the page.

Frowning, Hermann looked at the paragraph again, squinting and looking a little closer. Certain letters were underlined. One by one he picked them out, writing them all out; WYTNSZHLROPBGKJAFM.CVEDIQUX

Then, it clicked.

The letters were a key, and the nebula was the guide.

It was a cipher! 

“Newton, you brilliant bastard. Talk to me, come on.” Hermann whispered, leaning over his tray table and getting to work.

He and Newton shared many similar interests despite the way they butted heads, and one of those was cryptography. The ability to convey a message only known to a select few was something that appealed them both; a language comprised of precise order and knowledge. Newton loved the art of turning something that seemed completely nonsensical into something coherent; Hermann loved the precision, the mapping, the puzzle. The trifid cipher was complex enough to be nearly impossible to solve without a key, and Newton had given it to Hermann. 

The reason for Newton's behavior was locked away in the jumble of words at the bottom of the page.

He checked the time.

Three hours left before he would land. Three hours to remember how the cipher worked. It was a polygraphic substitution cipher, so he would have to map out the letters. A little message at the very bottom of the page read 'all thi ngs com ein thr ees”; again it clicked to Hermann. The trifid cipher was based on squares of three! Hermann weilded his pen like a weapon, furiously scribbling the necessary steps down on the next page, eyes flitting back and forth as he worked. It was good, it was something to hone in on; a purpose, a  _mission_ , and that mission was to save the man he loved from whatever had forced his secrecy. 

The first message took ages to decrypt; it was always more difficult to work backwards when you had the beginning and end already revealed. When the last period hit the paper, Hermann's eyes widened in horror.

The scribbled letters;

HIT GU. HKH XKY LTP TL. NRB QKH OVE IFY TL. BLA QRJ NBB LBG YPH .GR LIT AHZ RKW COG X.O

Translated to;

HER MAN NIN EED YOU THE YAR EIN MYH EAD THE PRE CUR SOR SCA NTG ETT HEM OUT NEE DYO U..

_Hermann, I need you. They are in my head, the Precursors; can't get them out, need you.._

The next set of letters;

DMV NBT WBM PSW CGW EIO HNR ZVY Y.RP

Translated to;

IAM NOT STR ONG ENO UGH WIT HOU TYOU

_I am not strong enough without you._

The last set on the page took incredible resolve to get through.

CAE QNC ARN CMR ODW EPO SHE ZD. ZLQ DMV NBB TL

Translated to;

ILO VEY OUH ERM ANN DON TFO RGE TME IAM SOR RY

_I love you, Hermann. Don't forget me. I am sorry._

I need you, I love you, I'm not strong enough. Hermann's heart twisted and split within his chest. How could he have missed it? The Newton who had come to him days before was not the Newton who had left a year ago. The changes were mostly subtle, but had Hermann really been too lovestruck to see that something was horribly wrong? When they had made love... Was it really Newton? Or was it the creatures who had taken control of him?

Tears rolled down his cheeks as the plane hit the tarmac.

No.

No, what he had experienced the night before, that was Newton. Hermann might have missed the signs before, might have written off his differences to their time apart, but when the two of them had crashed together in blind, stupid passion, he knew. It was in the laughter, in the teasing, in the easily overwhelmed and horribly impatient way he moved. Newton was _there_ when the release that had been thirteen years in the making, and Hermann refused to believe otherwise.

Oxytocin, quiet – Hermann blinked slowly as he disembarked.

Perhaps the release of the chemicals quieted the Precursor's hold on Newton.

Quite literally, the power of love had healed him, if just for a time.

“What a horrendous cliche.” Hermann mumbled to himself, hailing a taxi.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> those coded messages are 100% accurate and took me 300 years to figure out, rip wittygaypuns


	8. Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann searches for Newt.

For perhaps the first time in his life, Hermann had no plan. He had no assumptions on how the next few hours would go, or what might happen if things went wrong. Even when he had drifted with Newton it had been a calculated risk; he had studied Dr. Lightcap's neural interface technology extensively, and had watched the effects of the drift on countless rangers. He knew what the side effects were, and even though it was a Kaiju that they had drifted with, he had Newton's xenobiological background to draw on for knowledge. Every act of heroism he had ever undertaken had only come after careful consideration, but this time was different.

This time, there was no study to fall back on.

This time, the scenario was entirely new, something only seen in science fiction and horror movies.

This time, the stakes were Newton's life, and perhaps his own.

Hermann drew in a deep breath as he exited the cab and looked up at the massive building. The Shatterdome was enormous, but bore a familiarity that Shao Industries did not. The Shatterdome was a labor of love and desperation; cold and industrial, but full of people with a purpose and passion. The Shao building was massive, a chrome and white construct that stretched so high it seemed impractical and artificial. It was the type of place that villains ruled over, that monsters were created. The sort of monument to Capitalism that Newton would have denounced in the past, and so Hermann was instantly wary. His instincts begged for a return to the Shatterdome, to the comfortable misery in which he had enveloped himself in over the year. Hermann pushed them down, deep into the recesses of his soul where the cowardly child he once was still lurked.

Now was the time for courage, for action. With every day that passed, every moment without Newton safe at his side, the hold the Precursors had over him must grow stronger. The visit had been a cry for help from the Newton he had loved for so many years. Hermann felt sick at the thought that Newton was trapped within his own mind somehow, struggling for control with the monsters that had taken up residence in his head. Hermann would force the bastards out somehow, and would be there to help Newton pick up the pieces.

Before anything, he had to evaluate the situation, and in order to do that, he needed to see Newton again. He needed to look him in the eyes and examine what he found within them. If he found Newton was still there, the way he had been the night before, Hermann would drag him back to Hong Kong with him. He would keep him where he belonged, where he had purpose, not in this false equivalence of a life. Hermann hoped that the things he had translated in the notepad were true; that Newton loved him, and needed him.

If this whole venture turned out to be some fool's errand, it would devestate Hermann, but for the time being, his own feelings meant nothing. Newton was in danger, and a danger of the most malicious kind. It was a danger that went on without the notice of anyone around. It was the cancer that lurked for years before metastesizing. It was the insects that ate away at the structure of a home until it was too late to save it. Hermann just counted himself lucky that the bond they had was so strong, that **Newton** was so strong; he had figured out how to squirm out of their grasps long enough to write a message that only Hermann would understand. He knew that Hermann would stop at nothing to make it better.

He took a deep breath as he entered the building, easily moving past the guards with a flash of his PPDC credentials. They didn't bother checking him or running him through a scanner. One even bowed his head and said something in Mandarin that evaded Hermann's understanding, though the way he clasped his hands seemed thankful. Maybe the man knew who he was, and what he and Newton had accomplished the years before? He didn't have the time to consider it as he approached a secretary's desk, placing a hand on the edge.

“Yes, Miss, I was hoping you might be able to help me. I'm looking for a colleague of mine who works here. Doctor Newton Geiszler?” He said, using the title he knew that Newt couldn't stand.

“He is likely on the Research and Development floor. Would you like for me to call for him? May I ask your name?” The polite young lady asked.

“Yes, I would appreciate that. Er – I'll tell you my name, on the condition you don't tell him it. We had a bit of a falling out recently and I'd prefer he didn't snub me today. I've come quite a ways to get here...” Hermann said softly, giving a little smile. The woman seemed to understand, giving him a smile that looked almost fond.

“Of course, Sir.” She said.

“Thank you for your understanding, young lady. I am Doctor Hermann Gottlieb. We worked together for over a decade.” He said.

“Oh! Doctor Gottlieb! I read all about your work... You did wonderful things during the war!” She said excitedly. Hermann fought the blush rising to his cheeks.

“Ah, I did what was needed with the skills that I had. Thank you.” He nodded to her, hoping she would just call Newt then.

She did, lifting the phone and dialing. The conversation that proceeded was rapid-fire Mandarin, then silence, then Mandarin again. Hermann leaned on his cane, nervousness thrumming through his body. It was strange the way emotion had a way of manifesting in ways that were physical; his hip ached, his chest felt tight. He couldn't wrap his mind around how mental illness must affect a person as a whole, being lucky enough to have avoided it. The nightmares were one thing, but they didn't affet him after a certain point of the morning, and he was able not to dwell on them. To be truly mentally ill, with some diagnosis; Hermann counted his lucky stars all the time that he didn't have to deal with that. He had seen how devestating it was in others and though his own body often betrayed him, his mind was sharp and in perfect working order. He was prone to melancholy, of course, but never without reason.

When the woman set the phone down, she was frowning.

“Ah, I am sorry, Doctor Gottlieb. Doctor Geiszler is not in today, I am afraid. The floor manager said that he is not due in until Friday. Can I take a message for you?” She asked apologetically.

“No, that won't be necessary... I'll just have to find him outside of here. I don't suppose you're allowed to give me the address to his apartment?” Hermann sighed, dejected.

“No sir, I am afraid that I would get into trouble.” She said, mirroring his expression. Hermann smiled, shaking his head to her.

“Don't worry about it, my dear. Thank you for your help.” He bowed his head to her.

“I wish you luck, Doctor Gottlieb.” She said.

Hermann gave a mute nod, trying to remain courteous. Even after the attack, Tokyo was massive and heavily populated. All he knew of Newton's apartment was that it was in a high rise and luxurious and very much the opposite of what anyone who knew him expected him to live in. It was likely in a high-end district, the sort of place that had doormen and amenities that would rival a five-star hotel. The population centers of the city had been highly diminished by Onibaba's attack, so were he to obtain a current map, he would be able to narrow it down.

He could do this. He had written the programming code for the Jaegers. He had saved the damned world. How hard could it be, if he approached it methodically?

“Oh, it is time for my break! Oh, and I have such an important phone call I must make right now!” The woman he had turned away from squeaked out.

She was speaking deliberately loud; Hermann looked back to see her watching him as she pulled her phone from her pocket. He watched her eyes tip towards her computer screen for a brief moment before she began to shuffle away from the desk. Hermann's eyes went wide. She was trying to help him, wasn't she? Her deliberate nature and unnecessarily loud voice were something he only understood from being around Newton for so long. The man was about as subtle as a tire iron to the knee. The woman was at least a bit more delicate about it.

The moment she was out of view, speaking loudly on her phone (he wondered if she was even talking to anyone), Hermann moved to the desk. He leaned over it, grinning at what he saw. She had opened a few programs; tucked away in a corner was a personnel file with Newton's identification picture at the forefront. He was thankful for the smart-screen technology because he needed only to scroll up with a finger to find the information he needed. Oddly enough, the majority was written in English, so he could find the address with no difficulty, though reading it would take a little effort.

Snapping a picture of the screen with his own phone, Hermann made haste to leave. He would thank the secretary for her kindness somehow, someday.

Another cab ride took him to his destination. His mind was fuzzy, his nerves buzzing as he hailed the elevator to the floor where he hoped to find Newton. It was the penthouse, a place he never envisioned Newton enjoying. He had been such a grounded man in an almost literal sense, preferring to stick close to the ground where all of nature's wonder could be seen up close. Newton had once discovered there were rats in the laboratory's vents, and rather than calling for an exterminator (like Hermann wanted), he captured the things. It had taken weeks to convince him that they had no need for the vermin, and an actual reprimand from Pentecost for Newton to agree to release them away from the Shatterdome. Hermann had seen the man actually _pick up worms_ during a storm on the hangar deck to place them back into the dirt, calling them “nifty little decomposers who just got a little lost”. To be so far removed from the earth that he loved... Well, that was a metaphor that needed no further exposition, to Hermann.

It simply wasn't him.

Hermann was ashamed of himself for not seeing it sooner. Realistically he would have assumed that there was some mental illness, however; Hermann wasn't prone to superstition, so the thought of him being _possessed_ was nearly incomprehensible. Nearly. He knew that the Drift worked two ways. He knew that the way that Newton had disconnected from the brain the first time had been abrupt, only happening because his body couldn't handle the neural load. Just as Raleigh still felt his brother even after his death, the nature of the drift-break had left a piece of the hivemind inside of Newton. It festered there, and the bond must have strengthened during the second drift. The Precursors wrapped their tendrils around Newton's vulnerable mind. As the elevator door opened, sorrow bunched up in his stomach. For a year he had shouldered such horrors alone while Hermann fretted and whined internally about Newton no longer paying attention to him.

If he had only seen!

Moving to the door, Hermann rapped on it quickly.

“Newton! It's Hermann... Please. If you're in there, please let me in. I – I have to return your notebook, and I figured it would be easier to do in person.” Hermann said, voice softening at the end. Would his presence tip the Precursors off? Did they _know_ Hermann to know that he was a threat? He had so many questions, so many that would go unanswered if Newton didn't answer.

“Newton?” He knocked again, hoping he was there. In his haste, he hadn't stopped to consider that Newton may not have even gone back to Tokyo. Perhaps he had fled the country, and Hermann, in some spectacularly ridiculous way and Hermann would never be able to find him again. Maybe he went back to America, forced by the Precursors to seek out the ends to whatever sinister plans they had there. Maybe he went to Germany, or Sweden, maybe he went --

The lock clicked in the door. The sound was faint but cut through Hermann's rapid-fire thoughts with ease.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone.” Newton's voice came from the other side of the door. There was a soft thunking on the wall beside it.

“Not exactly.” Hermann said, testing the handle of the door. It gave, and he pushed the door open, nervous. Despite what Newton had just said, he was still letting him in.

“Hey – what'd you think you're doing? Alice doesn't want any visitors.” Newton grumbled, tattooed arm shooting out to stop the door before it opened entirely. His voice was slower than normal, and a peek in showed Hermann that Newton was slumped against the wall. His cheeks were flushed, and he had no shirt on. His belt was undone, and in one hand he held a nearly tapped bottle of liquor with a Japanese label.

“Alice... I read that in the --” Hermann shook his head. “Newton, you're drunk?”

Hermann pushed Newton's arm away from where it held the door. It flopped uselessly to his side, and Newton regarded him with a dull, booze-soaked expression. His cheek was now pressed to the wall, his eyes heavy-lidded. Almost comically, he shrugged a shoulder and hiccupped once. Hermann frowned deeply, moving into the apartment, leaning his cane against the wall on his way to the other man. Hermann had never actually seen Newton drunk, even at Shatterdome events. Even after the Breach was sealed, Newton had waved off the liquor being offered out to every living soul. He had always told Hermann that he gave it up after university because he didn't like the way it made him feel; out of control, wrong. Without prompt, Hermann moved to him and slid his arms around his shoulders, holding the other man close to his chest.

“Herms, please... You can't be here.” Newton choked out, even as his hands gripped Hermann's shirt, bottle dropping to the floor with an unceremonious thud.

“Well, that's just too bad, because I am. And I won't leave here without you. So if you're worried that... that Alice doesn't want visitors, leave with me. We'll get a hotel. I'll keep you safe, Newton. I'm never letting you out of arms reach again.” Hermann mumbled; he looked around the apartment. It looked like no one actually lived there. Everything looked clean and fresh, an advertisement-quality to the apartment that was unsettling, considering how much of a mess Newton had always been.

Newton didn't live there. He just ended up there every day.

“Please, Newton. Let me bring you away from here.” Hermann said, bringing a hand up and brushing it through Newton's hair, kissing his temple.

“You can't. I – they won't let me. I'm not strong enough to, they... You need to leave, Hermann.” Newton said, his voice pained; his tones switched halfway through, taking on a firm, even one for the last statement. Hermann could hear it; it was them. He leaned away from Newton, and took his cheeks in his hands, firm.

“Newton, look at me. _Look at me!_ ” Hermann said, matching the intensity of the Precursors. Newt's eyes darted to and fro, almost twitching as he fought to focus.

“You've fought them for a year on your own. You aren't alone anymore, Newton. I'm here, and I won't leave you. We're stronger together than we ever were apart. I love you, Newton. I _love_ you, and I refuse to let you suffer without me suffering with you. I won't let them have you!” Hermann's voice was whispered, passionate. He poured his emotion into them, hoping that it would help Newton to push through; that the chemicals inside him would release, would suppress the Precursors hold for long enough to get him out of that place. Newton watched him, his eyes beginning to focus.

“Fuck, Herms. I love you.” Newton mumbled. “Kiss me. Please?”

Hermann would never deny such a request.

The kiss was chaste, but it centered them both.

“Okay... Okay. Let's – let's get the fuck out of here, quick. Between the booze and you I think – maybe I can do this. _Fuck_ , I love you. I'm gonna keep saying that for a while, okay? I love you. I fucking love you, I love your stupid hair. I love your fucking face, and your lips, and your stupid sweater vests, and...” Newton began to ramble. Hermann released his face and pulled his jacket off, offering it out to him.

“Put this on.” Hermann said, even as he was pulling Newt's arms through the sleeves.

“I love your big stupid jacket. It's so long, god I love you. I'm pretty drunk so we're gonna be a mess, you know. Just – we gotta go NOW.” Newton mumbled, barely helping him with the dressing process.

Hermann said nothing more as he buttoned the jacket. It was a little looser on him than it would have been a year before. He hoped Newt was eating and not just maintaining a liquid diet... but that was a problem for the future. The immediate threat of the Precursors was tied somehow to the apartment, which Newton was now more than eager to leave. He would have to return once he got Newton somewhere safer.

“You okay, Herms?” Newton mumbled.

“Keep telling me what you love about me.” Hermann mumbled as he grabbed his cane.

The request was partly to keep Newton's mind away from the hive... and entirely self-indulgent. After the way he had felt that morning, Hermann needed to hear all the little platitudes, to indulge in all the ego stroking.

Now he knew. He knew that Newton loved him.

And now that he knew, he would do anything to keep him safe, and that required planning.

The world was saved in a single day; to save Newton's soul might take a little longer. 

 


	9. Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Hermann retreat to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taking me so long to get these chapters out! Don't worry, I'm devoted to completing this fic. <3

What was the process for saving the life of a man whose problem lie outside of the known universe?

What was the protocol for alien possession, for hive-mind disconnection?

The Anteverse's real-time location had yet to be discovered; it was speculated that it was actually a parallel universe by some, in which case, entirely unreachable by physical means. The throat had been a one-way portal, passage encrypted with the genetic code of the creatures that were sent forth from it. All of the research that had been done in the past eleven years had been done in the name of the preservation of human life; there simply weren't the funds to examine all the possibilities. Finding the source of the threat had been wholly unnecessary, since there was only one link; the Breach. Close the breach, stop the threat. They hadn't needed to know anything else.

Like most things done by humans, it was reactive rather than proactive. To prepare for an alien threat was seen as foolhardy and wasteful, particularly because humankind was so apt to create threats of its own. Global warming, nuclear weapons, mass extinction, war, prejudice, disease; who had time for anything else? It was easy to see the Precursors as something animal, a threat to be removed at any cost so that the world could return to its infighting and the destruction of its own planet. Though the world was at peace at the moment, how long would it last before it broke? How long before opposing viewpoints created another clash?

How long before the weapons that Hermann had helped create for the protection of the world were used to destroy it?

It was a classic trope; weapons of war being called 'peacekeepers' as they mowed through the bodies of innocents, destroyed the beautiful things that the human race had managed to preserve. The prospect was more terrifying to Hermann than anything he had ever encountered, and he had drifted with a kaiju brain as well and seen their hell-world with his own mind. Even as he sat on the edge of the bed beside the dazed man he had fallen in love with, Hermann was distracted by the possibilities. He needed Newton there, he needed him present and himself so that he would have something real and perfect to focus on. Newton was so stringently anti-capitalism, anti-facism, anti-war that only he and Hermann as a team would be able to prevent Hermann's wild fever-dreams of a devestated world destroying itself further.

He needed Newton present and the way he was so that he didn't fall into a despair so deep that he lost the ability to react to situations the way they needed to be reacted to.

And Newton needed him to pull him out of the darkness of his own mind.

His hand found Newton's, wrapped around it.

“Are you with me, Newton?” Hermann whispered.

“I'm here. It's – there's a lot of noise. It's all foggy 'cause of the booze, but they can't get a grip on me. Fuckers.” Newton's fingers squeezed weakly.

“I need to know how to move forward. I don't know how I can fix this.” Hermann said, voice full of despair.

“Bullshit.” Newton mumbled, not looking to him but staring at the wall, face sad.

“What?” Hermann said, frowning.

“You might not know exactly how, but you know how. You always know how. You know **me** , Herms. You figured out something was -was wrong. That I wasn't me.” Newton said, slurring a little and clenching his eyes shut.

“It took me a year, Newton. A full year, and only after you basically spelled it out for me...” Hermann said, voice deep with despair.

“So? You still did. Doesn't matter that it took a while. You're here now and you know and – and we can...” Newt's eyes clenched tighter, and a tiny little whimper tore from his throat.

“Newton – stay with me!” Hermann pulled his hand away and shifted off of the bed entirely, moving to the floor, to his knees despite the sharp pain it drove into his hip. He rested his chest against Newton's legs, hands grasping his. He stared up at Newton, examining his face. The agony that twisted his expression broke Hermann's heart into sharp little needles that simultaneously shoved into his soul and steeled his resolve.

“Newton, open your eyes and look at me, right now!” Hermann commanded, voice firm but hands carressing his with love.

“I don't know if I can hold on, Herms, and I – I don't want them to hurt you.” Newt whispered.

“They could drag me through the streets and pull the skin from my bones and I would still fight for you.” Hermann returned with conviction. “But I need you to fight at my side.”

Newton's eyes opened, full of tears.

“Is there anything you can tell me that would help, darling? Anything at all? Something back at your apartment?” Hermann was practically pleading, wanting desperately to brush away the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“No!” Newton suddenly snapped, hands going tight in Hermann's. The mannerism was so sharp, so precise that Hermann knew it was _them_ speaking. He had his answer. Newton's apartment held some key, some other piece to this puzzle. His hands were strong, and though his movement were subdued and checked by the alcohol, the grip still hurt. Hermann grimaced, but fought back, not with physical force but with the adoration he held for him.

“Very well. I'll stay here. I'm sure the apartment is just where you sleep, anyway.” He kissed the white, straining knuckles that gripped his hands, allowed his cheeks to rest against the backs of Newton's hands. It must have seemed a convincing act of submission, because Newton gasped and his grip loosened. A sob broke from his throat as he yanked his hands away, horrified that he had hurt him in any way.

“Stay with me, please. Please, Hermann. Just – stay where I can see you.” Newton said, body starting to shift away. Hermann would not allow it, wrapping an arm around Newt's legs, resting his head against his thighs.

“We'll stay here, together. Relax.” Hermann said, voice soft.

He would have to wait to investigate the apartment, and Newton couldn't be there for it. He would have to wait until he was sleeping; but what if he woke while Hermann was away? Hermann drew his lips tight over his teeth as he worried. Would he have to tie him up? It seemed cruel, but the last time he had left the Precursors under control, Newton had been dragged away to Tokyo in the dead of night. How punishing they must have been, how cruel it must have felt to Newton to leave at such a tender time, after their coupling. He did not doubt that Newton loved him now; he felt it deeply. He saw it in the desperate fight for control, in the drinking, in the gentle pleas for Hermann to worry about himself. Newton would let himself be lost forever if it meant he would keep Hermann safe, and perhaps that was why he had pushed away so completely over the year.

Even if Newton hadn't always been away of the Precursor's sway, he must have known something was wrong. Some inkling, some feeling of being _off_ , not himself. He must have. His Newton would never accept that sort of life. Maybe at first he assumed it was just that his priorities had shifted because the war was over, and that he needed to plan for his own future. The offer had been so cushy, after all, with all the funding they had never had in the Shatterdome. Newton must have convinced himself that he wanted the change and that leaving Hermann and the PPDC was the only way to enact it.

Or maybe he had known the whole time, and been fighting the whole time against their control. Somewhere inside of Newton he was trapped, bound by invisible chains to do the bidding of the Precursors. Maybe it had taken him a year to dupe the aliens living in him, to give them a false sense of complete control. Newton had a brilliant mind and Hermann could imagine how it may have worked, the man using his own brain to devise traps and false walls in which to hide himself. He could imagine him squirreling away the pieces of his consciousness in order to safely reach out for help.

Either way, his strength was admirable.

“I'll stay here as long as I'm needed, Newton. Whatever you need from me, it's yours.” Hermann said.

“I need more wine, I think. I think it'll help.” Newton mumbled, a hand moving to Hermann's hair to stroke it lightly.

“I haven't got any, and you're already rather drunk. Why don't you go and shower instead? Then we can rest for the night.” Hermann suggested.

“I'm not that drunk, and I'm not showering alone. I already told you I want you with me.” Newt said, voice firm.

“I --” Hermann sputtered a little at the thought, sitting upright.

“Hermann, don't act so shy. I've already seen what you've got and I'm already super into it 'cause I know under that terrible dress shirt is a rockin' bod. Now come on.” Newton insisted, patting his cheek as he slid away and stood. Hermann stood as well once Newton offered a hand.

“I suppose you're right. We're keeping it chaste, though. You're drunk.” Hermann grumbled as he stood.

“Yeah yeah we'll see.” Newton gave a little giggle, not releasing Hermann's hand.

Hermann didn't mind; he led him to the bathroom, happy for the connection, to be linked at the fingers. As long as he had Newton there with him, he could do something about the situation. And if all he could do was to bathe with him and avoid sleeping while he did, so be it. He would enter the apartment later, once he had lulled his man to sleep. He just had to remember not to allow himself to get so lost in the feeling of being with him that he allowed himself a reprieve from the mission he had set off on. He couldn't get comfortable. He couldn't enjoy being Newton's lover until he was free.

“I'm so.. happy that we're together, Newton.” Hermann mumbled as he turned the shower on.

“Oh man, sentimental Hermann. I've been waiting my whole life to hear this.” Newton grinned, shifting to his side. The terror and pain he had seen before had all but disappeared.

“Don't tease me.” Hermann muttered, turning to face him.

“I'm not teasing! I love it!” Newt protested, pulling his hand away only to bring it to Hermann's trousers, undoing the belt and button without much effort and shoving his pants down. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Hermann was unable to prevent the blush from rising to his cheeks, and focused instead on getting Newton undressed. It was easy to do, the other man eager to shed them and get into the shower. Hermann did his best not to gawk, though a part of his mind noted that Newton was half-hard. Testing the water with a hand and finding it warm enough to suit them both, he gave Newt a little pat on the bottom (resisting the urge to squeeze instead) to get him in. A moment after, he joined him, picking up the little hotel sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner to begin cleaning them both off.

They were silent for a time as Hermann worked; his hair was still shortly cropped and didn't take much effort. He took more time for Newton's, however, working through it slowly. He aimed to relax him as much as possible and enjoyed the process. Someday he hoped they could do this all the time without some looming threat. He had never really been able to envision his life without Newton in it, even when that was the reality, so it was easy to daydream about what their future could hold. When this ordeal was over and Newton was his without an unwanted passanger, Hermann would ask him to marry him. They could live together somewhere outside of the Shatterdome, somewhere peaceful and close to nature.

Newton's back rested against his chest as Hermann carefully rinsed his hair, using a hand to shield his eyes from the soapy water.

“Whatcha thinking about, handsome?” Newt asked, taking Hermann's other arm and wrapping it around his midsection.

“You and I.” Hermann said, honest, leaning his head down to press a kiss to his temple.

“All good stuff, right? Not how much I always piss you off or how... messed up I am?” Newt's voice was soft. Hermann frowned. Newton had set the precedent long ago that he was confident, almost _too_ confident. Hearing doubts leak through that way made him frown, made his arms both wrap around him more firmly.

“About how I have a hard time functioning to full capacity when you aren't around. About the future.. about our future.” Hermann said. Whatever damage the Precursors had done to Newton, Hermann would see him through the pain of recovery.

“You think we have one?” Newton asked, looking up at him.

“Of course we do, Newton.” Hermann reassured him.

 

* * *

 

Later that night when Newton finally fell asleep, Hermann gave a soft sigh. He felt guilty binding the sleeping man to the bed, but considered it a necessary evil. If Newton were to wake and find him gone, there was no telling what the Precursors would make him do. Strips of cloth ripped from the bedsheets bound his hands behind his back, and his ankles together, and another length bound him to the posts of the bed. Another strip around his mouth would keep any noise he made muffled enough to avoid concerned hotel staff barging in on him. He hoped it wasn't necessary, that he would be back before he woke. His sleep was drunk and heavy enough that Newton had barely reacted to Hermann manipulating his body. Paranoia caused Hermann to make sure he was on his side and that there was enough of a gap in the cloth at his mouth that if he were sick he wouldn't choke, and pillows propped behind him ensured that he would stay that way.

As Hermann moved to the door, fear pulsed through him, heart beginning to pound in his chest. He didn't know what to expect in the apartment, or how this would all play out.

All he knew for sure was that Newton's life depended on the actions he took that night.

 


	10. Fearful and Fearless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann confronts the brain.

Anxiety coated his nerve endings like molasses, causing his hands to shake and his movements to slow. The movement of the elevator to Newton's floor felt oppressively sedate, though he knew it was high-tech enough to be moving much faster then his perception could currently register. A ding, and the door opened. Without Newton at his side, Hermann doubted his own resolve. He second-guessed as he did with all things when Newton wasn't there. Was his decision to come alone and leave him in the hotel, bound and gagged, wrong? Whatever he found in the apartment would no doubt crush him, and he worried that he wouldn't be able to do what needed to be done.

The link between Newton and the Precursors was behind the door that Hermann couldn't move his hand to open.

Hermann gritted his teeth and set his jaw, taking several deep breaths. He had to be calm; he had to save Newton. He had placed all his trust in Hermann for a reason.

Newton. The thought of him would center Hermann, give him the strength to move forward.

Manic, belligerent, brilliant Newton.

Newton, the only man who had ever understood him so succinctly.

Newton, the only person he had ever, would ever love.

Newton, his odd, handsome, bright-eyed man with more PHDs then sense.

He thought of the way that Newton would trade verbal blows with him in a way that both respected his viewpoints and challenged him.

He thought of the way that Newton never allowed anyone to underestimate him.

He thought of the way that Newton could make a totally silent room feel full of life.

Clenching a fist, Hermann unlocked and opened the door, pushing it so hard it slammed against the wall. He pushed the bottle Newton had dropped earlier aside with the butt of his cane, moving into the apartment with renewed purpose. Thoughts of Newton kept him steady, thoughts of love and warmth that he had never hoped to have in the past. He had never thought that anyone would love him the way Newton did, and if Hermann had to tear down that entire building in order to protect that love, then by God he would do it. He summoned the practically illogical courage inside of himself that he attributed solely to his drift with Newton as he pushed forward.

A cursory examination of the area revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The apartment was cool and sterile. There were empty wine bottles lining the kitchen counters that he hadn't seen before, but no food in sight. Had the Precursors been starving his poor man, or did they have him eating at restaurants for every meal? He knew that Newton loved to cook, but there was nothing in the kitchen that would back that up. He did look thinner than a year ago, but he had attibuted that to the new high stress job. Though one could argue that there was never a job more stressful than the one they had at the PPDC, where they were tasked with actually saving the world, and Newton was delightfully chubby then. Nothing they did during those years was anything short of stressful; they stress ate, stress slept, stress yelled.

He shook his head roughly, moving away from the kitchenette. He could see a bathroom from where he was, and it was as non-descript as the rest of the place, so he didn't examine it. Instead, he looked to the doorless entryway not far from the little kitchen, taking a deep breath. The bedroom. He had seen it when Newton first came to the apartment. It was as beautiful and lavish as the rest of the apartment, from what he remembered, with a bed too big for one person and carpeting that looked cloud-soft. He moved to the door. Surely this was where he would find his answers.

Carefully moving up the steps to the room, he entered the room.

There, Hermann heard an unsettling and deeply familiar noise.

The gentle humming of a sample tank.

He remembered the sound well from the many years working in a lab full of them; it served as a sort of background hum that was actually sort of soothing. It was a constant reminder of the work they did, the sort of auditory cue that, when Hermann heard it, summoned up memories of late nights and endless problems that needed solving. Even then the hum put Hermann in a singular mood; there was a problem to be solved in that room, and the problem carved a swath of horror into his heart. When he forced his eyes open and his chin up, he saw it.

There, floating almost serenely in a giant tank, was the unmistakable mass of a Kaiju brain.

It was the connection to the Anteverse holding Newton hostage.

Hermann felt physically ill, his stomach turning at the sight of the sickly looking thing suspended in a vat of yellow-green fluid. It was barely “alive” but Hermann assumed that the wires and cables connected to the foul creature were there to keep it from rotting. Perhaps there was an electric current moving through the Lovecraftian horror, and the fluid around it was conductive, enough that the thing maintained some semblance of life. He wasn't sure of the logistics. He knew plenty about biology, but life support systems for malevolent aliens were outside of his wheelhouse, and he felt too sick to give it more coherent thought.

“You...” Hermann mumbled softly, moving towards the entity in the tank.

It was rotting, that much was clear; it was far past its expiration date, but the tank was keeping it alive. There was one thicker cable extending from the thickest part of the brain. Hermann had suspected the second that he saw the brain that Newton had been drifting with it, but the sense of deep revulsion at the confirmation made him turn away. He had put that wonderful brain of his at risk again, and in such an unprecendented way that Hermann didn't know if the damage could be reversed.

Hermann moved to the bed and sat down, staring up at the tank.

“What do I do? Do I smash you to bits, shred you down to viscera? Would that hurt him?” Hermann said softly, thinking out loud as he rested both hands on the handle of his cane.

“Do I keep him away from you long enough that the connection breaks itself?” He asked. Even the night they had shared hadn't kept Newton from coming back there, though. Could he really spend his entire life babysitting the man he loved?

Well, he absolutely could. But would it be fair to either of them? To constantly have the fear that Newton would be compelled by the entities in his brain to leave in the night in order to drift with the floating sack of alien garbage before him? Would smashing the brain affect Newton's negatively in a physical sense? Would it damage it further? The thought of hurting him by proxy made Hermann's stomach churn harder.

“Calm down, Hermann, think. _Think_ , damn you.” Hermann hissed at himself.

Drifting. Hermann knew plenty about it, about the logistics, about the science, but there was still so much unknown so he had to think mostly in anecdotes. Yancy Becket had died while still drifting with his little brother Raleigh and the psychological impact had been profound. He knew that Raleigh could still feel traces of his brother though the drift and could still access his memories years after the attack that ended his life. But that was with an active connection being severed, and the impact was likely heightened due to the bond between the brothers rather than an aftereffect of the drift itself.

Newton was not currently connected to the Kaiju, but the hive still had a hold of the man. The Precursors controlled Newton even from Hong Kong, nearly 2000 miles away from the brain. Hermann assumed that Newton was compelled to drift with the beast often, considering the setup he saw in a closeby chair that faced the tank. A pons headset ran along the cable that connected to the tank, ready with its own designated power supply to drift at a moments notice with little prep-work. The only conclusion that Hermann could really reach was that the lingering hold the Precursors had on Newton was a byproduct of sustained, frequent drifting. It likely happened over the course of the year that they were apart, and started in that first ill-advised drift in the lab.

Remove access to a drug and an addict is allowed the opportunity to recover.

Hermann gave a firm nod, standing back up and moving to the tank.

The thing had to die.

As he moved closer to the tank, though, Hermann found himself hesitating. Strange doubts began to bubble up from his subconscious, an undercurrent of uncertainty that rippled from a place in his mind that he could not access otherwise. There was still so much research to be done on the Kaiju, so much they didn't know, and he was going to destroy the only known brain left in their world? His decision to destroy the tank was rather hasty, wasn't it? If the Precursors were to open another breach and send more Kaiju through, how prepared would they be if he destroyed such a valuable piece?

He stopped short of the tank, shaking his head roughly. As quickly as that twinge of doubt rose, it was crushed down again, replaced by an anger so succinct it was thrilling. Was his own mind still connected in some way from the drift a year ago? How _dare_ those bastards try to weasel back into his mind! And what was further, how _dare_ they try to stop him from saving his man!

“You had a good run, you bastard. But I'm taking him back now!” Hermann snapped, smacking the thick glass with his cane.

The tanks were made to last, but they weren't made to suffer sustained impact. The glass was reinforced, and would take a good deal of effort to get through, but Hermann was more than prepared to work for his prize. He moved to the back of the tank, disconnecting the wires and cables rigged up to the apartments electrical system, smirking when the tank went dark. It might die on its own without the life support, but why risk it?

Hermann, who knew nothing about baseball, took his best shot at a baseball stance. He swung his cane with its metal plated handle as hard as he could. The impact shook his bones, but he didn't care, not when he thought of Newton. Trying his best to land every blow in the same spot, Hermann let his mind get carried away from the apartment, to the hotel room where Newton was bound. With every crack against the glass, Hermann brought himself closer to happiness.

Each blow moved him closer to a future with Newton.

One where they could be together, finally.

One where they wouldn't be normal, persay, but wonderfully strange in their own way despite the world around them, together.

They could get a house together.

Maybe even get some pets.

Hermann laughed triumphantly as the sickly fluid the brain was suspended in began to leak out. He struck the little hole he had made a few more times to make it larger and larger, until it was a hold the size of his fist and gushing the foul smelling stuff. The brain was moving inside, twitching wildly, pulsating as the liquid escaped. It was fighting pointlessly for its life, and Hermann took a sick sort of pleasure in seeing it. Let it suffer, let it die slowly; it deserved no less for what it had compelled Newton to do.

Yellow-green pooled around his feet, and Hermann took a few steps back to look at the pons that Newton had rigged up. He disconnected it from the power supply, and pulled away the chair; no point in getting electrocuted for his grandeur. When he turned back, the sight he was greeted with was nothing short of grotesque; the brain had been sucked into the hole, its matter tearing and pulling on the jagged edges. It was stuck there.

“Disgusting. I'm going to have to get a new cane, aren't I?” Hermann mumbled, moving closer to strike the tank a few more times.

The whole process took a fair amount of time, and was unbelievably cathartic to Hermann.

With every strike, he was taking back parts of his life that had been stolen from him.

As he rendered the disgusting mass of pulsating flesh motionless and mangled, he was taking back the joy that having Newton in his life granted him.

When the task was done, Hermann was out of breath and felt equally disgusted and satisfied, kicking the bits of brain apart from each other. One could never be too careful. Though he was sure that it wasn't capable of somehow reforming by being close to all its pieces, it was better to be too thorough than careless. There was no evidence that the thing could do that, but there was no evidence that it _couldn't_ either.

He took a deep breath as he sat down on the bed and pulled out his phone.

There was only one person he could call in his situation that would understand; or, at the very least, would accept and help.

“Miss Mori? I'm truly sorry to call so late in the evening, but I need help and you're the only one I could turn to.” Hermann said as the line was picked up.

“Doctor Gottlieb? Of course! Are you okay? What's wrong?” She sounded instantly worried; Hermann smiled. He wished she would call him Hermann, but having Stacker Pentecost for a father would make anyone formal.

“I'm good, now. Allow me to explain; and I'll ask that you suspend disbelief for the time being, because what I'm about to tell you will sound entirely ridiculous...” Hermann began.

He told Mako everything, trusting that she was the one person who would not only believe the unbelievable story he told, but that she would be able to send help given her position in the PPDC. The viscera couldn't just sit there, not with Shao Industries paying for the apartment. Someone would have to remove it and the tank, and all traces of anything related to the Anteverse. In order to secure Newton's future, he would have to be brought back to the Shatterdome where he could be monitored, and that would involve his contract with Shao Industries being bought out or somehow negated...

“Oh, Doctor Gottlieb. I wish you would have told me what was going on so that I could have helped before!” Mako sighed softly. “How horrible for Mister Newt; but we'll bring him home where he belongs.”

“We will. I'm going back to him right now, I'll text you the hotel information.” Hermann said softly, reassured by her worry.

“Good, I will be there with a few others in the morning... now... I have one more question.” She said.

“Yes?” Hermann responded.

“Does this mean that you and Mister Geiszler are... together now? Finally?” Hermann could hear the giggle bubbling up in her, and smiled.

“It does.” He confirmed. The laughter that followed made him frown a bit.

“And what's so humorous about that, young lady?” He huffed.

“Raleigh owes me HK$500. He always thought you two hated each other, but I knew you would end up together.” She sounded so pleased that Hermann actually blushed.

“Oh, I see. Well, I – please call me in the morning when you arrive. Thank you, Miss Mori. It means the world to me that you're able to help.” Hermann said softly as he stood once again.

“Of course, Doctor Gottlieb. I will see you soon. Keep him safe until then.” She said.

“I will. Goodbye.” Hermann said.

The relief that poured over him as he hung up and made his way out of the apartment was considerable. The entire ordeal was exhausting, and all he wanted to do was to hold Newton in his arms again. He was eager to get to the hotel and see him, to unbind him and tell him what had happened. He was also nervous for it; he didn't know what state Newton would be in when he arrived. If he were a praying man, he would be doing so; praying for him not to be catatonic, to be in one piece and not suffering. He would pray that the disconnect from the Hive was a peaceful one.

Kicking his shoes off as he entered the hotel room, he made his way slowly to the bed. He had to discard his cane at the apartment, so movement was a bit of a chore. Newton was there, faced away from him and still bound, a sight that made him feel horrific.

“Newton... I'm back. Are you awake?” Hermann said softly, moving to the other side of the bed to see his face.

Newton's nose was bleeding, and Hermann immediately pulled away the cloth from around his mouth to stop it up. His eyes were open and slightly bloodshot, but moved to look at him; not catatonic, thankfully.

“Oh, Newton. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to do this but I was scared you would be compelled to leave again...” Hermann whispered a hurried apology. Newt gave a crooked smile.

“Y'know, you should really ask a guy what he's into before you tie him up...” Newt mumbled. Hermann smirked a little, shaking his head as he worked on getting him loose.

“I apologize. I'll ask next time, if that's what you prefer.” He joked.

“Score.” Newt snickered.

“... How do you feel?” Hermann asked, still holding the cloth to his nose while the other hand untied Newt's.

“I uh... You killed it, right? I could feel it. Wasn't a super pleasant way to wake up, gotta admit. My head's still pretty fuzzy and I feel all kinds of off, but it's more... quiet. I don't think they're gone yet – I don't know if they ever will be, which is pretty scary, but it's definitely more quiet up here.” He tapped his temple when his hands were freed, helping Hermann with the rest of the bindings.

“The fact that you're able to talk about them without... shutting down, though. That's a good sign. And when we get back home we can scan your brain and see what's going on there.” Hermann said. Newton tugged on his arms, urging him to climb into the bed. Hermann was quick to obey, pulling Newton into his arms and squeezing him tight. He had never felt so relieved, not even when the Breach was sealed.

“I always knew you'd save me.” Newton mumbled against his chest, squeezing him just as tight.

“In any lifetime, in any circumstance. I would tear the universe to shreds if it meant you would be safe and in my arms.”

“When did you become such a romantic?”

“When I realized I loved you.”

 


	11. Nightmares and Prophecies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermann wakes from a disturbing dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it's been like two months since I updated. But since then, I've graduated and gotten enough free time to start focusing on my writing again. I hope anyone that was reading before will still enjoy this, because I plan to complete it still. Thank you for your patience. <3

“I always knew you'd save me.” Newton whispered even as his prone form began to fall into the abyss below.

“Newton! Take my hand! Take my hand and hold on or take me down with you, damnit! Don't leave me again!” Hermann cried, pushing towards him as he fell. His legs wouldn't work, wouldn't move – why was he always so broken? Why could he never just **be** and thrive without chaos forcing his movements? A sob wrecked his throat as Newton began to fall faster into the blackness. With every scrap of will he could muster, Hermann used his arms instead. A surge of determination slammed against his brain. If he couldn't use his legs, he would use his arms. If his arms failed, he would crawl with his torso, or drag himself forward with his teeth. _Nothing_ would stop him from protecting Newton, not distance, not Shao Industries, not the Precursors, not even his own damnable body.

“I won't let you fall alone, Newton.” He whispered, shoving himself off of the precipice, pushing, pushing, reaching towards Newton, who was nearly out of sight, plunging into the depths of whatever hell awaited them both. In a freefall, Hermann forced his body to move faster, though the air was too thick to be natural. How could he breathe when the air felt gelatinous? He brushed the thought away, careening into the low light of the valley beneath.

The low light grew, and grew, pulsating blues and purples ebbing from a center that Hermann was barreling towards. Newton was moving towards it, body pliant and moving at the whim of his fall. Was he conscious? There was a mass beneath them, something with the appearance of a hill; but it split in two, revealing a throat alight with crackling energy, balls of rolling lightning sliding along the mouth. The mouth? It was a mouth! Teeth erupted from the edges of the split, lining the entirety of the hole leading to the horrific throat, threatening to tear them to shreds if they were to go off course. Hermann pushed himself forward, his free-fall now more controlled. If he could control his emotions, could he control the course of this flight? He pushed, pushed, pushed, and Newton, whose flight was more clumsy, came closer, close enough for Hermann to finally take hold of him, yanking the man into his arms, controlling their descent.

Together, they plunged into the throat, hair follicles going tight with electric current crackling through them.

When they came out the other side, Newton was ripped away into ghastly limbs by a creature that he had seen before. Hermann crashed to a stop on a platform overlooking a nightmare city. Jagged towers that seemed to lack a definitive shape loomed in above, made of a stone that did not exist in the human world. Hermann felt tiny and insignificant, but there was no fear as he struggled to his feet. This time, he was not paralyzed.

“Let him go!” Hermann spat at the beast with many eyes.

The maw of the monster, lined with pincers that clicked and clacked made no words, but Hermann understood them as clear as day.

// _HE IS OURS_

_YOU CANNOT HAVE HIM_

_HE IS WEAK WITHOUT US_ //

“He is strong!” Hermann snapped, daring to step forward.

// _HE IS WEAK AND WE WILL TEAR HIM APART_

_YOU KILLED ALICE WE WILL DESTROY HIM_

_HE WILL BE TORN APART INSIDE AND THERE WILL BE NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU_

_HE WILL BE A SHELL HE WILL BE BROKEN//_

The voice in his head was grating, a clear monotone punctuated by the clicking of the beasts mouth. It made Hermann's skin crawl, a sense of repulsion digging at his gut. The creature was as alien and unnatural as could be, and held Hermann's lover tight against its carapace. Needle-like claws rose to Newton's expressionless face, pressing against the skin of his forehead and beginning to press in.

“No... I'll never let you hurt him again.” Hermann whispered with soft conviction.

Jaw set, Hermann lunged towards the Precursor.

__

When Hermann woke, his body was rigid, tense, and soaked with sweat. There was a whimpering at his side, a noise of pain and horror, almost animalistic in nature. It was a struggle to move himself, the way it always was after a nightmare of the Anteverse, but he had reason to now. The whimpering was coming from the side of the bed that Newton was on. Was he having a nightmare as well? Hermann understood, and felt a strange sense of joy at finally having him there to talk about them. He wondered if his were at all similar. Though he had fallen asleep holding Newton, the nightmare had led him to curl away from him.

“Newton, wake up – Newton!” Hermann said softly at first, but when he finally turned to look at the other man, horror plunged his heart into despair.

Newton's face was bloody, a jagged paths made by his own fingernails tearing down his right cheek and neck. The movements he made weren't violent despite the violence they inflicted, though; they were distressingly calm as the sleeping man slowly began to rake his nails down again. His features were contorted in pain, body curled on its side. Hermann flew into action, lifting his own protesting body and grabbing hold of Newton's wrists to wrest his hands away. Newton's forearms were extremely tense but didn't directly struggle. They were like stuck levers, not protesting but not budging much either.

“Newton! What the bloody hell are you doing? You're ripping your own face to bits. Darling, wake up, please.” Hermann whispered, voice rough. His eyes hurt, his throat felt raw; had he been screaming in his sleep again? He couldn't bring himself to care, not with Newton in such a sorry state. Newton did not wake.

“Newton, please. Please wake up.” Hermann begged, shifting them, pulling them both upright. The bloodied man was so tense it must ache something awful, and the cuts on his face... His beautiful face. What had happened inside his head that was so horrible?

“Newton, listen to me. Wake up. Wake _up_ , damn you!” Hermann wanted to hold his face, to tend to his wounded cheeks, to rub his back and listen to his woes. He watched his face, eyes filled to the brim with tears at the sight of him.

His eyes twitched aimlessly, rapidly beneath the lids. God damnit, what could he do to wake him? He would slap him if his face wasn't already wounded (not that he could picture himself doing such a thing). He was too afraid to let his hands go with the way he had used them to batter himself. Hermann felt sick, felt lost, tears spilling down his cheeks and dropping on to Newton's chest. Was he comatose? He fumbled through his own memories, searching for something that would help.

“Newton, wake up, damn you! I can't lose you. Not after all we've been through. What do you need me to do?” He said, gathering both of Newton's wrists into one of his hands, thankful just this once for the all-around weight loss that had enabled him to do so. He slid a hand along his side, hoping that maybe the affectionate touch would pull him back. He pressed his lips to Newton's, sobbing softly against his mouth.

Hermann was so tired. All he wanted was to have Newton to himself, to be with him and to be content. He wanted to be _allowed_ that contentment, to be _allowed_ to feel it for more than a fleeting second. He would choose lifelong misery over the torture of having happiness dangled in front of his face and ripped away immediately. The saying was 'better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all', but that old trope was like daggers to the chest. At least if he had never loved, the pain he felt would never have come. Maybe he would wonder what it would be like to be with someone, to be loved, but he would trade it away to avoid the hurt.

Maybe if he didn't love Newton as passionately as he did, he would be willing to let go.

“Shut up, Hermann.” He whispered to himself, snapping out of his momentary daze.

How could he be so ridiculous? He would never give Newton up. Even if he were still just a colleague. Better to walk in the dark with a friend than alone in the light, after all. Hermann would crawl through any depths to see him safe and happy again. His strange, fleeting regret was cast aside as an afterthought, a fumbling emotion brought on by the terror inflicted at Newton's current state.

Newton's hands twitched a few times, and then, without ceremony, went limp along with the rest of his body. He slumped into Hermann's arms, head dropping to his shoulder. There was a harsh inhale of breath, like a gasp forced through gritted teeth.

Hermann gently lowered him to the pillows, examining his face. Newton's eyes had opened, and opened wide. The expression was one of untold horror. The expression of a man who had seen Hell in all its terrible glory and could not quite separate it from the reality around him. His arms twitched again, but Hermann had not yet let them go, worried that Newton's lucidity was only temporary. If he was even awake at all.

“Newton... Talk to me.” Hermann whispered, his free hand going to cup the relatively unmarred side of his cheek.

“H-Hermann...” Newton closed his eyes tight for a moment, then opened them to look at him. There was more clarity to them then, but also a deeply seated pain, a glimmer of sorrow.

“Darling... I'm with you. You're safe.” Hermann said, though he wasn't sure how honest his own words were. Newton offered a little smile, though there was no joy to it.

“I... I don't think I'm safe at all, Herms. They're still there. Without Alice they're losing the connection but...” Newton closed his eyes. “It hurts.”

“Your face – in the dream I was having, the Precursor had you and was about to scratch it up... Then I wake and I see you like this.” Hermann muttered. The implication was terrifying. Had the Precursors invaded his dreams as well? Newton looked at him again.

“You saw them? Did... Did it start with us falling? I couldn't move but you came after me. We fell into this disgusting mouth and – and...” Newton said with a bit more volume, a bit less sorrow.

“We shared a dream?” Hermann said, releasing his wrists finally. Newton rested his hands on Hermann's shoulders.

“I was paralyzed but you wouldn't let me fall alone. Then when the Precursor had me, you jumped at them, but there was a flash of light and you were gone.” Newton said. “Herms, if we're sharing dreams, we're still connected somehow, through the Drift. It's been a whole fuckin' year and somehow we're still linked? That means they can get to you too!”

“Let them try. I would gladly take that burden from you.” Hermann said with conviction.

“Hermann, I can't let them get to you, I can't!” Newton actually whimpered it. To see someone as prideful as Newton reduced to such vocalizations pained Hermann more than he could quantify. Hermann would be as strong for him as he needed. He would be backbone enough for them both. If he were to drift with Newton, strengthen their bond, perhaps it would loosen the Precursors grip further.

“Newton, we've been in this together from the start. I won't fail you now. We have a future together, remember? Those alien bastards can't have you. You don't belong to anyone, but you belong by my side. I think this must be their death knell; they're fucking parasites biting as they die, scrambling for purchase in your mind.” Hermann reassured him.

“If – if they're making me do this to myself...” Newton mumbled.

“Then we'll find a way to stop it. When we get back to Hong Kong... I'm going to drift with you again. Just us, without the third party. I'll find a way to dislodge them. Maybe... just strengthening our own drift bond will do it. Maybe I have to keep following you into dreams. Maybe I have to open a damned breach and blow up the Anteverse as a whole. I don't know; I'll figure it out. We're in this thing together, Newton. You aren't getting rid of me, nor are they.” Hermann told him, punctuating his words with a soft kiss. Newton's eyes rolled shut, body relaxing again.

“You'd do that for me?” He muttered against his lips.

“With you,” Hermann corrected, offering a little smile, “Now... we need to clean up your face. We have quite a day ahead of us.”

“Okay.” Newton agreed.

He had placed his trust in Hermann this far, and Hermann had no intention of letting him down.

 


End file.
